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THE 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS, 


FROM 


THIS    WO  ELD, 


TO 


THAT    WIIIGII    IS    TO    COME 


BY    JOHN    BUNYAN. 


Wi^iilx  ^llu^ixixiimx^  htj  ^nrujuul  m&  (^iktx^. 


New    York 

AMERICAN    BOOK    EXCHANGE 

7  64:    Broadway 

1881 


Printed  by  Thomas  Holman, 

Cor.  Centre  &  White  Sts., 

New  York. 


M 


THE  AUTHOR'S  APOLOGY 

FOK  HIS   BOOK, 

When  at  the  first  I  took  my  pen  in  hand 
Thus  for  to  write,  I  did  not  understand 
That  I  at  all  should  make  a  little  book 
In  such  a  mode ;  nay,  I  had  undertook 
To  make  another ;   which,  when  almost  done, 
Before  I  was  aware,  I  thus  begun. 

And  thus  it  was :  I,  writing  of  the  way 
And  race  of  saints,  in  this  our  gospel  day, 
Fell  suddenly  into  an  allegory 
About  their  journey,  and  the  way  to  glory, 
In  more  than  twenty  things  which  I  set  down. 
This  done,  I  twenty  more  had  in  my  crown; 
And  they  again  began  to  multiply. 
Like  sparks  that  from  tlie  coals  or  fire  do  fly. 
Nay,  then,  thought  I,  if  that  you  breed  so  fast, 
I'll  put  you  by  yourselves,  lest  you  at  last 
Should  prove  ml  iiijinitum,  and  eat  out 
The  book  that  I  already  am  about. 

Well,  so  I  .did ;  but  yet  I  did  not  think 
To  show  to  all  the  world  my  pen  and  ink 
In  such  a  m.ocle;  I  only  thought  to  make 
I  knew  not  what :  nor  did  I  undertake 
Thereby  to  please  my  neighbour:   no,  not  I; 
I  did  it  my  own  self  to  gratify. 

Neither  did  I  but  vacant  seasons  spend 
In  this  my  scribble ;  nor  did  I  intend 
(3) 

269495 


THE  AUTHOR'S  APOLOGY. 

But  to  divert  myself,  in  doing  this, 

From  worser  thoughts  which  make  me  do  amiss. 

Thus  I  set  pen  to  paper  with  delight, 
And  quickly  had  my  thoughts  in  black  and  white; 
For,  having  now  my  method  by  the  end, 
Still  as  I  pulled,  it  came ;  and  so  I  penned 
It  down :  until  it  came  at  last  to  be, 
For  length  and  breadth,  the  bigness  which  you  see. 

Well,  when  I  had  thus  mine  ends  together, 
I  showed  thcxU  others,  that  I  might  see  whether 
They  would  condemn  them,  or  them  justify : 
And  some  said,  Let  them  live;   some.  Let  them  die: 
Some  said,  John,  print  it;  others  said.  Not  so: 
Some  said.  It  might  do  good ;  others  said,  No. 

Now  was  I  in  a  strait,  and  did  not  see 
Which  was  the  best  thing  to  be  done  by  me: 
At  last  I  thought.  Since  you  aie  thus  divided, 
I  print  it  will,  and  so  the  case  decided. 

For,  thought  I,  some,  I  see,  would  have  it  done, 
Though  others  in  that  channel  do  not  run: 
To  prove,  then,  who  advised  for  the  best, 
Thus  I  thought  fit  to  put  it  to  the  test. 

I  further  thought,  if  now  I  did  deny 
Tliose  that  would  have  it,  thus  to  gratify, 
I  did  not  know  but  hinder  them  I  might 
Of  that  which  would  to  them  be  great  delight. 

For  those  which  were  not  for  its  coming  forth, 
I  said  to  them.  Offend  you  I  am  loath. 
Yet,  since  your  brethren  pleased  with  it  be, 
Forbear  to  judge  till  you  do. further  see. 

If  that  thou  wilt  not  read,  let  it  alone; 
Some  love  the  meat,  some  love  to  pick  a  bone. 
Yea,  that  I  might  them  better  palliate, 
I  did  too  with  them  thus  expostulate : — 

May  I  not  write  in  such  a  style  as  this  ? 


THE   AUTHOR'S  APOLOGY. 

In  such  a  method,  too,  and  yet  not  miss 

My  end — thy  good  ?     Why  may  it  not  he  done  ? 

Dark  clouds  bring  waters,  when  the  bright  bring  none. 

Yea,  dark  or  bright,  if  they  their  silver  drops 

Cause  to  descend,  the  earth,  by  yielding  crops, 

Gives  praise  to  both,  and  carpcth  not  at  either, 

But  treasures  up  the  fruit  they  yield  together; 

Yea,  so  commixes  both,  that  in  her  fruit 

None  can  distinguish  this  from  thit;  they  suit 

Her  well  when  hungry ;  but,  if  she  be  full. 

She  spews  out  both,  and  makes  their  blessings  null. 

You  see  the  ways  the  fisherman  doth  take 
To  catch  the  fish ;  what  engines  doth  he  make  ! 
Behold  how  he  engageth  all  his  wits; 
Also  his  snares,  lines,  angles,  hooks,  and  nets; 
Yet  fish  there  be,  that  neither  hook,  nor  line, 
Nor  snare,  nor  net,  nor  engine  can  make  thine: 
They  must  be  groped  for,  and  be  tickled,  too, 
Or  they  will  not  be  catch'd,  whate'er  you  do. 

How  does  the  fowler  seek  to  catch  his  game 
By  divers  means  !  all  which  one  cannot  name : 
His  guns,  his  nets,  his  lime-twigs,  light,  and  bell; 
He  creeps,  he  goes,  he  stands;  yea,  who  can  tell 
Of  all  his  postures  ?    Yet  theie's  none  of  these 
Will  make  him  master  of  what  fowls  he  please. 
Yea,  he  must  pipe  and  whistle  to  catch  this ; 
Yet,  if  he  does  so,  that  bird  he  will  miss,  ^^ 

If  that  a  pearl  may  in  a  toad's  head  dwell, 
And  may  be  found  too  in  an  oyster-shell  • 
If  things  that  promise  nothing  do  contain 
What  better  is  than  gold;  who  will  disdain, 
That  have  an  inkling  of  it,  th  erto  look. 
That  they  may  find  it  ?     Now,  my  little  book 
"(Though  void  of  all  these  paintings  that  may  make 
It  with  this  or  the  other  man  to  take) 


THE  AUTHOR'S  APOLOGY. 

Is  not  without  those  things  that  do  excel 
What  do  in  brave  but  empty  notions  dwell. 

"Well,  yet  I  am  not  fully  satisfied 
That  this  your  book  will  staud,  when  soundly  tried.*' 

Why,  what's  the  matter?     "  It  is  dark. "    What  though? 
^*  But  it  is  feigned."     What  of  that?     I  trow 
Some  men,  by  feigned  words,  as  dark  as  mine, 
Make  truth  to  spangle  and  its  rays  to  shine. 
"But  they  want  solidness."     Speak,  man,  thy  mind. 
"They  drown  the  weak;  metaphors  make  us  blind." 

Solidity,  indeed,  becomes  the  pen 
Of  him  that  writeth  things  divine  to  men ; 
But  must  I  needs  want  solidness,  because 
By  metaphors  I  speak  ?     Were  not  God's  lawa^ 
Ilis  gospel  laws,  in  olden  times  held  forth 
By  types,  shadows,  and  metaphors  ?     Yet  loath 
Will  any  sober  man  be  to  find  fault 
With  them,  lest  he  be  found  for  to  assault 
The  highest  wisdom.     No,  he  rather  stoops. 
And  bceks  to  find  out  what  by  pins  and  loops, 
By  calves  and  sheeps,  by  heifers  and  by  rams, 
By  birds  and  herbs,  and  by  the  blood  of  lambs, 
God  speaketh  to  liim ;  and  liappy  is  he 
That  finds  the  light  and  grace  that  in  them  be. 

Be  not  too  forward,  therefore,  to  conclude 
That  I  want  solidness — that  I  am  rude ; 
All  things  solid  in  show  not  solid  be ; 
All  things  in  parables  despise  not  we; 
Lest  things  most  hurtful  lightly  we  receive. 
And  things  that  good  are,  of  our  souls  bereave. 
My  dark  and  cloudy  words,  they  do  but  hold 
The  truth,  as  cabinets  enclose  the  gold. 

The  prophets  us^d  much  by  metaphors 
To  set  forth  truth  ;  yea,  whoso  considers 
Christ,  his  Apostles  too,  shall  plainly  see, 


THE   AUTHOR'S   APOLOGY. 

That  truths  to  this  day  in  such  mantles  be. 

Am  I  afraid  to  say  that  Holy  Writ, 
Which  for  its  style  and  phrase  puts  down  all  wit, 
Is  everywhere  so  full  of  all  these  things — 
Park  figures,  allegories  ?     Yet  there  springs 
From  that  same  book  that  lustre,  and  those  rays 
Of  light,  that  turn  our  darkest  nights  to  days. 

Come,  let  my  carper  to  his  life  now  look. 
And  find  there  darker  lines  than  in  my  book 
He  findeth  any ;  yea,  and  let  him  know. 
That  in  his  best  things  there  are  worse  lines  too. 

May  we  but  stand  before  impartial  men, 
To  his  poor  one  I  dare  adventure  ten, 
That  they  will  take  my  meaning  in  these  lines 
Far  better  than  his  lies  in  silver  shrines. 
Come,  truth,  although  in  swaddling  clouts,  I  find, 
Informs  the  judgment,  rectifies  the  mind. 
Pleases  the  understanding,  makes  the  will 
Su])mit ;  the  memory  too  it  doth  fill 
With  what  doth  our  imaginations  please ; 
Likewise  it  tends  our  troubles  to  appease. 

Sound  words,  I  know,  Timothy  is  to  use, 
And  old  wives'  fables  he  is  to  refuse ; 
But  yet  grave  Paul  him  nowhere  did  forbid 
The  use  of  parables;  in  which  lay  hid 
That  gold,  those  pearls,  and  precious  stones  that  were 
Worth  digging  for,  and  that  with  greatest  care. 
Let  me  add  one  word  more.     O  man  of  God, 
Art  thou  offended  ?     Dost  thou  wish  I  had 
Put  forth  my  matter  in  another  dress? 
Or  that  I  had  in  things  been  more  express? 
Three  things  let  me  propound  ;  then  I  submit 
To  those  that  are  my  betters,  as  is  fit. 

1.  I  find  not  that  I  am  denied  the  use 
Of  this  my  method,  so  I  no  abuse 


THE   AUTHORVS   APOLOGY. 

Put  on  the  words,  things,  readers;  or  be  rude 
lu  handling  figure  or  similitude. 
In  application ;  but,  all  that  I  may. 
Seek  the  advance  of  truth  this  or  that  way. 
Denied,  did  I  say?     Nay,  I  have  leave 
(Example  too,  and  that  from  them  that  have 
God  better  pleased,  by  their  words  or  ways, 
Than  any  man  that  breathetli  now-a-days) 
Thus  to  express  my  mind,  thus  to  declare 
Things  unto  thee  that  excellentest  are 

2.  I  find  that  men  (as  high  as  trees)  will  write 
Dialogue-wise ;  yet  no  man  doth  them  slight 
For  writing  so:  indeed,  if  they  abuse 

Truth,  cursed  be  they,  and  the  craft  they  us© 
To  that  intent ;  but  yet  let  truth  be  free 
To  make  her  sallies  upon  thee  and  me. 
Which  way  it  pleases  God ;  for  who  knows  how, 
Better  than  he  that  taught  us  first  to  plough. 
To  guide  our  mind  and  pens  for  his  design? 
And  he  makes  base  things  usher  in  divine. 

3.  I  find  that  Holy  Writ  in  many  places 

Hath  semblance  with  this  method,  where  the  cases 
Do  call  for  one  thing,  to  set  forth  another ; 
Use  it  I  may,  then,  and  yet  nothing  smother 
Truth's  golden  beams:  nay,  by  this  method  may 
Make  it  cast  forth  its  rays  as  light  as  day. 

And  now  before  I  do  put  up  my  pen, 
I'll  show  the  profit  of  my  book,  and  then 
Commit  both  thee  and  it  unto  that  Hand 
That  pulls  the  strong  down,  and  makes  weak  ones  stand. 

This  book  it  chalketh  out  before  thine  eyes 
The  man  that  seeks  the  everlasting  prize ; 
It  shows  you  whence  he  comes,  whither  he  goes; 
What  he  leaves  undone,  also  what  he  does; 
It  also  shows  you  how  he  runs  and  runs. 


THE   AUTHOR'S   AVOLOGY.  9 

Till  he  unto  the  gate  of  glory  comes. 

It  shows,  too,  who  set  out  for  life  amain, 
As  if  the  lasting  crown  they  would  obtain ; 
Here  also  you  may  see  the  reason  why 
They  lose  their  labour,  and  like  fools  do  die. 

This  book  will  make  a  traveller  of  thee, 
If  by  its  counsel  thou  wait  ruled  be;    ^ 
It  w^ill  direct  thee  to  the  Holy  Land, 
If  thou  wilt  its  directions  understand  : 
Yea,  it  will  make  the  slothful  active  be ; 
The  Ulind  also  delightful  things  to  see. 

Art  thou  for  something  fair  and  profitable? 
Wouldest  thou  see  a  truth  within  a  fable? 
Art  thou  forgetful?     Wouldest  thou  remember 
From  New  Year's  day  to  the  last  of  December? 
Then  read  my  fancies ;  they  will  stick  like  burs, 
And  may  be,  to  the  helpless  comforters. 

This  book  is  w^'it  in  such  a  dialect 
As  may  the  minds  of  listless  men  affect: 
It  seems  a  novelty,  and  yet  contains 
Nothing  but  sound  and  honest  gospel  strains. 

Wouldst  thou  divert  thyself  from  melancholy? 
Wouldst  thou  be  pleasant,  yet  be  far  from  folly? 
Wouldst  thou  read  riddles,  and  their  explanation? 
Or  elsQ  be  drowned  in  thy  contemplation? 
Dost  thou  love  picking  meat?     Or  wouldst  thou  see 
A  man  i'  the  clouds,  and  hear  him  speak  to  thee? 
Wouldst  thou  be  in  a  dream,  and  yet  not  sleep? 
Or  wouldst  thou  in  a  moment  laugh  and  weep? 
Wouldest  thou  lose  thyself  and  catch  no  harm, 
And  find  thyself  again  without  a  charm? 
Wouldst  read  thyself,  and  read  thou  know  est  not  what? 
And  yet  know  whether  thou  art  blest  or  not. 
By  reading  the  same  lines?     Oh,  then  come  hither, 
And  lay  my  book,  thy  head,  and  heart  together. 

John  Bunyan. 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


As  I  walked  through  the  wilderness  of  this  world,  I  lij?hted 
6n  a  certain  place  where  was  a  Den ;  and  I  laid  me  down  in 
that  place  to  sleep :  and  as  I  slept  I  dreamed  a  dream.  I 
dreamed,  and  behold  I  saw  a  man  clothed  with  rags,  standing 
in  a  certain  place,  vath  his  face  from  his  own  house,  a  Book 
in  his  hand,  and  a  great  "burden  upon  his  back.  (Isa.  Ixiv.  G; 
Luke  xiv.  34 ;  Psa.  xxxviii.  4.)  I  looked,  and  saw  him  open 
the  Book,  and  read  therein ;  and,  ii9  he  read,  he  wept  and 
trembled  ;  and  not  being  able  longer  to  contain,  he  brake  out 
with  a  lamentable  cry,  saying,  *'What  shall  I  do?"  (Acts 
ii.  37.) 

In  this  plight,  therefore,  he  went  home  and  refrained  him- 
self as  long  as  he  could,  that  his  wife  and  children  sh<^i>ld  net 
perceive  his  distress ;  but  he  could  not  be  silent  long,  because 
that  his  trouble  increased.  Wherefore  at  length  he  brake  his 
mind  to  his  wife  and  children ;  and  thus  he  began  to  talk  to 
them:  '*0  my  dear  wife,"  said  he,  '*and,  you  the  children 
of  my  bowels,  I,  your  dear  friend,  am  in  myself  undone  by 
reason  of  a  burden  that  lieth  hard  upon  me;  moreover,  I  am 
for  certain  informed  that  this  our  city  will  be  burned  with  fire 
from  heaven;  in  which  fearful  overthrow,  both  myself,  with 
thee,  my  wife,  and  you,  my  sweet  babes,  shall  miserably 
come  to  ruin,  except  (the  which  yet  I  see  not)  some  way  of 
escape  can  be  found,  whereby  we  maybe  delivered."  At  this 
his  relations  were  sore   amaacd;  not  for  that  they  believed 

(11) 


12  THE   MAN   MEETS   EVANGELIST. 

that  what  he  had  said  to  them  was  true,  but  because  they 
thought  that  some  frenzy  distemper  had  got  into  his  head ; 
therefore,  it  drawing  towards  night,  and  they  hoping  that 
sleep  might  settle  his  brains,  with  all  haste  they  got  him  to 
bed.  But  the  night  was  as  troublesome  to  him  as  the  day: 
wherefore,  instead  of  sleeping,  he  spent  it  in  sighs  and  tears. 
So  when  the  morning  was  come,  they  would  know  how  he 
did;  he  told  them,  *' Worse  and  worse."  He  also  set  to  talk- 
ing to  them  again;  but  they  began  to  be  hardened.  They 
also  thought  to  drive  away  his  distemper  by  harsh  and  surly 
carriages  to  him;  sometimes  they  would  deride,  sometimes 
they  would  chide,  and  sometimes  they  would  quite  neglect 
him.  Wherefore  he  began  to  retire  himself  to  his  chamber, 
to  pray  for  and  pity  them,  and  also  to  condole  his  own  misery; 
he  would  also  walk  solitarily  in  the  fields,  sometimes  reading, 
and  sometimes  praying;  and  thus  for  some  days  he  spent  his 
time. 

Now,  I  saw  upon  a  time,  when  he  was  walking  in  the  fields, 
that  he  was,  as  he  was  wont,  reading  in  his  Book,  and  greatly 
distressed  in  his  mind ;  and  as  he  read,  he  burst  out,  as  he 
had  done  before,  crying,  *'What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved?'' 
(Acts^xvi.  30,  31.) 

I  also  saw  that  he  looked  this  way  and  that  way,  as  if  he 
would  run;  yet  he  stood  still,  because,  as  I  perceived,  he 
could  not  tell  which  way  to  go.  I  looked  then,  and  saw  a 
man  named  Evangelist  coming  to  him,  who  asked,  **  Where- 
fore dost  thou  cry  ?  " 

He  answered,  *'Sir,  I  perceive  by  the  Book  in  my  hand, 
that  I  am  condemned  to  die,  and  after  that  to  come  to  judg- 
ment (Heb.  ix.  27),  and  I  find  that  I  am  not  willing  to  do 
the  first  (Job.  xiv.  21,  22),  nor  able  to  do  the  second." 
(Ezek.  xxii.  14.) 

Then  said  Evangelist,  *' Why  not  willing  to  die,  since  this 
life  is  attended  with  so  many  evils? "  The  man  answered, 
**  Because  I  fear  that  this  burden  that  is  upon  my  back  will 


HE   BEGINS   TO   RUN.  13 

sink  me  lowef  than  the  grave,  and  I  shall  fall  into  Tophet. 
(Isa.  XXX.  33.)  And,  sir,  if  I  be  not  fit  to  go  to  prison,  I  am 
not  fit  to  go  to  judgment,  and  from  thence  to  execution;  and 
the  thoughts  of  these  things  make  me  cry." 

Then  said  Evangelist,  *'If  this  be  thy  condition,  why 
standest  thou  still?"  He  answered,  *•  Because  I  know  not 
whither  to  go.''  Then  he  gave  him  a  parchment  roll,  and 
there  was  written  within,  "Flee  from  the  wrath  to  come." 
(Matt.  iii.  7.) 

The  man,  therefore,  read  it,  and,  looking  upon  Evangelist 
very  carefully,  said,  ^ '  Whither  must  I  fly  ?  "  Then  said  Evan- 
gelist, pointing  with  his  finger  over  a  very  wide  field,  "Do 
you  see  yonder  wicket-gate  ?"  (Matt.  vii.  13,  14.)  The  man 
said,  "  No."  Then  said  the  other,  "Do  you  see  yonder  shin- 
ing light  ?  "  (Psa.  cxix.  105;  2  Pet.  i.  19.)  He  said,  "I 
think  I  do."  Then  said  Evangelist,  "Keep  that  light  in 
your  eye,  and  go  up  directly  thereto;  so  shalt  thou  see  the 
gate;  at  which,  when  thou  knockest,  it  shall  be  told  thee 
what  thou  shalt  do." 

So  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  the  man  began  to  run.  Now, 
he  had  not  run  far  from  his  own  door,  but  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren perceiving  it,  began  to  cry  after  him  to  return ;  but  the 
man  put  his  fingers  in  his  ears,  and  ran  on  crying,  "Life I 
life !  eternal  life !  "  (Luke  xiv.  26.)  So  he  looked  not  behind 
him,  but  fled  towards  the  middle  of  the  plain.  (Gen.  xix. 
17.) 

The  neighbours  also  came  out  to  see  him  run  (Jer.  xx.  10), 
and,  as  he  ran,  some  mocked,  others  threatened;  and  some 
cried  after  him  to  return.  Now  among  those  that  did  so, 
there  were  two  ^hat  resolved  to  fetch  him  back  by  force :  the 
name  of  the  one  was  Obstinate,  and  the  name  of  the  other 
Pliable.  Now,  by  this  time,  the  man  was  got  a  good  dis- 
tance from  them ;  but,  however,  they  were  resolved  to  pur- 
sue him,  which  they  did,  and  in  a  little  time  they  overtook 
him.     Then  said  the  man,  "Neighbours,  wherefore  are  you 


14  OBSTINATE  AND   PLIABLE. 

come  ?"  They  said,  **To  persuade  you  to  go  back  with  us." 
But  he  said,  **  That  can  by  no  means  be ;  you  dwell,"  said  he, 
*'  in  the  City  of  Destruction  (the  place  also  where  I  was  born) ; 
I  see  it  to  be  so ;  and,  dying  there,  sooner  or  later,  you  will 
sink  lower  than  the  grave,  into  a  place  that. burns  with  fire 
and  brimstone:  be  content,  good  neighbours,  and  go  along 
with  me." 

*'What!  "  said  Obstinate,  **and  leave  our  friends  and  com- 
forts behind  us  ?" 

*'Yes,"  said  Christian — for  that  was  his  name — '*  because 
that  ALL  which  you  sliall  forsake  is  not  worthy  to  be  com- 
pared with  a  little  of  that  that  I  am  seeking  to  enjoy  (2  Cor. 
iv.  17,  18) ;  and,  if  you  will  go  along  with  me,  and  hold  it, 
you  shall  fare  as  I  myself ;  for  there,  where  I  go,  is  enough 
and  to  spare.  (Luke  xv.  17.)  Come  away,  and  prove  my 
words." 

Obst.  What  are  the  things  you  seek,  since  you  leave  all  the 
world  to  find  them  ? 

Chk.  I  seek  an  inheritance  incorruptible,  undefiled,  and 
that  fadeth  not  away  (1  Pet.  i.  4),  and  it  is  laid  up  in  heaven, 
and  safe  there  (Heb.  xi.  16),  to  be  bestowed  at  the  time  ap- 
pointed, on  them  that  diligently  seek  it.  Read  it  so,  if  you 
will,  in  my  Book. 

''  Tush !  "  said  Obstinate,  **  away  with  your  Book ;  will  you 
go  back  with  us  or  no  ? " 

'*  No,  not  I,"  said  the  other,  ^'  because  I  have  laid  my  hand 
to  the  plough."     (Luke  ix.  62.) 

Obst.  Come  then,  neighbour  Pliable,  let  us  turn  again  and 
go  home  •  without  him ;  there  is  a  company  of  these  crazed- 
headed  coxcombs  that,  when  they  take  a  fancy  by  the  end, 
are  wiser  in  their  own  eyes  than  seven  men  that  can  render  a 
reason.     (Pro v.  xxvi.  16.) 

Then  said  Pliable,  *' Don't  revile;  if  what  the  good  Chris- 
tian says  is  true,  the  things  he  looks  after  are  better  than 
ours;  my  heart  inclines  to  go  with  my  neighbour." 


PLIABLE   YIELDS   TO   CHRISTIAN.  15 

Obst.  What  !  more  fools  still  ?  Be  ruled  by  me,  and  go 
back ;  who  kiltows  whither  such  a  brain-sick  fellow  will  lead 
you  ?    Go  back,  go  back,  and  be  wise. 

Chr.  Nay,  but  do  thou  come  with  me,  neighbour  Pliable ; 
there  are  such  things  to  be  had  which  I  spoke  of,  and  many 
more  glories  besides.  If  you  believe  not  me,  read  here  in  this 
Book ;  and  for  the  truth  of  what  is  expressed  therein,  behold, 
all  is  confirmed  by  the  blood  of  Him  that  made  it.  (Heb.  ix.  ' 
17-22;  xiii.  20,  21). 

'*Well,  neighbour  Obstinate,"  said  Pliable,  "I  begin  to 
come  to  a  point ;  I  intend  to  go  along  with  this  good  man, 
and  to  cast  in  my  lot  with  him :  but,  my  good  companion,  do 
you  know  the  way  to  this  desired  place  ?  " 

Chr.  I  am  directed  by  a  man,  whose  name  is  Evangelist, 
to  speed  me  to  a  little  gate  that  is  before  us,  where  we  shall  re- 
ceive instructions  about  the  way. 

Pli,  Come,  then,  good  neighbour,  let  us  be  going. 

Then  they  went  both  together. 

*'And  I  will  go  back  to  my  place,"  said  Obstinate.  "I 
will  be  no  companion  of  such  misled,  fantastical  fellows." 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that,  when  Obstinate  was  gone 
back,  Christian  and  Pliable  went  talking  over  the  plain ;  and 
thus  they  began  their  discourse. 

Chr.  Come,  neighbour  Pliable,  how  do  you  do  ?  I  am 
glad  you  are  persuaded  to  go  along  with  me.  Had  even  Ob- 
stinate himself  but  felt  what  I  have  felt  of  the  powers  and 
terrors  of  what  is  yet  unseen,  he  would  not  thus  lightly  have 
given  us  the  back. 

Pli.  Come,  neighbour  Christian,  since  there  are  none  but 
us  two  here,  tell  me  now  further  what  the  things  are,  and  how 
to  be  enjoyed,  whither  we  are  going. 

Chr.  I  can  better  conceive  of  them  with  my  mind,  than 
speak  of  them  with  my  tongue:  but  yet,  since  you  are  desir- 
ous to  know,  I  will  read  of  them  in  my  Book. 

Pli.  And  do  you  think  that  the  words  of  your  Book  are 
certainly  true  ? 


16  CHRISTIAN  AND  PLIABLE   DISCOURSE. 

Chb.  Yes,  verily  ;  for  it  was  made  by  Him  that  cannot 
he.     (Titns  i.  2).  • 

Pli.  Well  said;  what  things  are  they? 

Chr.  There  is  an  endless  kingdom  to  be  inhabited,  and 
everlasting  life  to  be  given  us;  that  we  may  inhabit  that 
kingdom  for  ever,     (Isa.  xlv.  17;  John  x.  27,  29.) 

Pli.  Well  said ;  and  what  else  ? 

Chr.  There  are  crowns  ot  glory  to  be  given  us,  and  gar- 
ments that  will  make  us  shine  like  the  sun  in  the  firmament 
of  heaven.     (2  Tim.  iv.  8;  Rev.  iii.  4;  Matt.  xiii.  43.) 

Pli.  This  is  very  excellent;  and  what  else  ? 

Chr.  There  shall  be  no  more  crying,  nor  sorrow:  for  He 
that  is  owner  of  the  place  will  wipe  all  tears  from  our  eyes. 
(Isa.  XXV.  6-8;  Rev.  vii.  16,  17;  xxi.  4.) 

Pli,  And  what  company  shall  we  have  there  ? 

Chr.  There  we  shall  be  with  seraphim  and  cherubim, 
creatures  that  will  dazzle  your  eyes  to  look  on  them.  (Isa.  vi. 
2.)  There  also  you  shall  meet  with  thousands  and  ten  thou- 
sands that  have  gone  before  us  to  that  place;  none  of  them 
are  hurtful,  but  loving  and  holy ;  every  one  walkmg  in  the 
sight  of  God,  and  standing  in  his  presence  with  acceptance 
forever.  (1  Thess.  iv.  16,  17;  Rev.  v.  11.)  In  aw^ord,  there 
.we  shall  see  the  elders  with  their  golden  crowns  (Rev.  iv.  4.) ; 
there  we  shall  see  the  holy  virgins  with  their  golden  harps 
(Rev.  xiv.  1-5.) ;  there  we  shall  see  men  that  by  the  world  were 
cut  in  pieces,  burned  in  flames,  eaten  of  beasts,  drowned  in 
the  seas,  for  the  love  that  they  bare  to  the  Lord  of  the  place, 
all  weil^  and  clothed  with  immortality  as  with  a  garment. 
(John  XII.  25;  2  Cor.  v.  2,  3,  5.) 

Pli.  The  hearing  of  this  is  enough  to  ravish  one's  heart. 
But  are  these  things  to  be  enjoyed  ?  How  shall  we  get  to  be 
sharers  thereof  ? 

Chr.  The  Lord,  the  Governor  of  the  country,  hath  recorded 
that  in  this  Book ;  the  substance  of  which  is.  If  we  be  truly 
willing  to  have  it,  He  will  bestow  it  upon  us  freely.  (Isa.  Iv. 
1,  2;  John  vi.  37;  vii.  37;  Rev.  xxi.  6;  xxii.  17.) 


BOTH   FALL   INTO   A   BOG.  17 

Pli.  Well,  my  good  companion,  glad  am  I  to  hear  of  these 
things:  come  on,  let  us  mend  our  pace. 

•  Chr,  I  cannot  go  so  fast  as  I  would,  by  reason  of  this  bur- 
den that  is  upon  my  back. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  just  as  they  had  ended  this 
talk  they  drew  near  to  a  very  miry  slough,  that  was  in  the 
midst  of  the  plain ;  and  they,  being  heedless,  did  both  fall 
suddenly  into  the  bog.  The  name  of  the  slough  was  Despond. 
Here,  therefore,  they  wallowed  for  a  time,  being  grievously 
bedaubed  with  the  dirt;  and  Christian,  because  of  the  burden 
that  was  on  his  back,  began  to  sink  in  the  mire . 

Then  said  Pliable,  "Ah  !  neighbour  Christian,  where  are 
you  now  ?  '* 

*'  Truly, "said  Christian,  "I  do  not  know." 

At  this.  Pliable  began  to  be  offended,  and  angrily  said  to 
his  fell ow,^  *' Is  this  the  happiness  you  have  told  me  all  this 
while  of  ?  If  we  have  such  ill  speed  at  our  first  setting  out, 
what  may  we  expect  betwixt  this  and  our  journey's  end  !  May 
I  get  out  again  with  my  life,  you  shall  possess  the  brave  coun- 
try alone  for  me."  And  with  that  he  gave  a  desperate  strug- 
gle or  two,  and  got  out  of  the  mire  on  that  side  of  the  slough 
which  was  next  to  his  own  house.  So  away  he  went,  and 
Christian  saw  him  no  more. 

Wherefore  Christian  w^as  left  to  tumble  in  the  Slough  of 
Despond  alone :  but  still  he  endeavoured  to  struggle  to  that 
side  of  the  slough  that  was  still  further  from  his  own  house, 
and  next  to  the  wicket-gate;  the  which  he  did,  but  could  not 
get  out,  because  of  the  burden  that  was  upon  his  back:  but  I 
beheld  in  my  dream  that  a  man  came  to  him,  whose  name  was 
Help,  and  asked  him  what  he  did  there. 

*'  Sir,'-  said  Christian,  '*!  was  bid  go  this  way  by  a  man 
called  Evangelist,  who  directed  me  also  to  yonder  gate,  that 
I  might  escape  the  wrath  to  come :  and  as  I  was  going  thither, 
I  fell  in  here." 

Help.  But  why  did  you  not  look  for  the  steps  ? 


18  HELP    LIFTS   CHRISTIAN   UP 

Chr.  Fear  followed  me  so  hard,  that  I  fled  the  next  way 
and  fell  in. 

Then  said  he,  '*  Give  me  thy  hand."  So  he  gave  him  his 
hand,  and  he  drew  him  out,  and  set  him  upon  sound  ground* 
and  bid  him  go  on  his  way,   (Psa.  xl.  2.) 

Then  I  stepped  to  him  that  plucked  him  out,  and  said, 
*'  Sir,  wherefore  (since  over  this  place  is  the  way  from  the 
City  of  Destruction  to  yonder  gate)  is  it  that  this  plat  is  not 
mended,  that  poor  travellers  might  go  thither  with  more 
security  ?  "  And  he  said  unto  me,  *'  This  miry  slough  is  such 
a  place  as  cannot  be  mended  ;  it  is  the  descent  whither  the 
scum  and  filth  that  attends  conviction  for  sin  doth  continually 
run,  and  therefore  it  is  called  the  Slough  of  Despond  ;  for 
still,  as  the  sinner  is  awakened  about  his  lost  condition,  there 
ariseth  in  his  soul  many  fears,  and  doubts,  and  discouraging 
apprehensions,  which  all  of  them  get  together,  and  settle  in 
this  place.  And  this  is  the  reason  of  the  badness  of  this 
ground. 

*'It  is  not  the  pleasure  of  the  King  that  this  place  should 
remain  so  bad.  (Isa.  xxxv.  3,  4.)  His  labourers  also  have,  by 
the  direction  of  His  Majesty's  surveyors,  been  for  above  these 
sixteen  hundred  years  *  employed  about  this  patch  of  ground, 
if  perhaps  it  might  have  been  mended :  yea,  and  to  my  knowl- 
edge," said  he,  *'here  have  been  swallowed  up  at  least 
twenty  thousand  cart-loads,  y^a,  millions  of  wholesome  in- 
structions, that  have  at  all  seasons  been  brought  from  all 
places  of  the  King's  dominions  (and  fliey  that  can  tell,  say 
they  are  the  best  materials  to  make  good  ground  of  the  place), 
if  so  be  it  might  have  been  mended  ;  but  it  is  the  Slough  of 
Despond  still,  and  so  will  be,  when  they  have  done  what  they 
can. 

"True,  there  are,  by  the  direction  of  the  Law-giver,  certain 
good  and  substantial  steps,  placed  even  through  the  midst  of 

*  The  first  part  of  Pilgrim's  Progress  was  written  between  the  years  1660  an<? 
1672. 


MR.  WORLDLY   WISEMiliA.  19 

tills  slough  ;  but  at  such  time  as  this  phice  doth  much  spew 
out  Its  filth,  as  it  doth  against  change  of  weather,  these  steps 
are  liardly  seen;  or,  if  they  be,  men,  through  the  dizziness  of 
their  heads,  step  beside;  and  then  they  are  bemired  to  pur- 
pose, notwithstanding  the  steps  be  there;  but  the  ground  is 
good  when  they  are  once  got  in  at  the  gate."   (1  Sam.  xii.  23.) 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  by  this  time  Pliable  was  got 
home  to  his  house  again ;  so  that  his  neighbours  came  to  visit 
him;  and  some  of  them  called  him  wise  man  for  coming  back ; 
and  some  called  him  fool  for  hazarding  himself  with  Chris- 
tian: others  again  did  mock  at  his  cowardliness,  saying, 
"  Surely,  since  you  began  to  venture,  I  would  not  have  been 
so  base  as  to  have  given  out  for  a  few  difficulties."  So  Pliable 
sat  sneaking  among  them.  But  at  last  he  got  more  confidence, 
and  then  they  all  turned  their  tales,  and  began  to  deride  poor 
Christian  behind  his  back. 

And  thus  mur-h  concerning  Pliable. 

Now,  as  Christian  was  walking  solitarily  by  himself,  he 
espied  one  afar  off,  come  crossing  over  the  field  to  meet  him; 
and  their  hap  was  to  meet  just  as  they  were  crossing  the  way 
of  each  other.  The  gentleman's  name  that  met  him  was  Mr. 
Worldly  Wiseman :  he  dwelt  in  the  town  of  Carnal  Policy,  a 
very  great  town,  and  also  hard  by  from  whence  Christian 
came.  This  man,  then,  meeting  with  Christian,  and  having 
some  inkling  of  him — for  Christian's  setting  forth  from  the 
City  of  Destruction  was  much  noised  abroad,  not  only  in  the 
town  where  he  dwelt,  but  also  it  began  to  be  the  town-talk  in 
some  other  places — Master  Worldly  Wiseman,  therefore,  hav- 
ing some  guess  of  him,  by  l)eholding  his  laborious  going,  by 
observing  his  sighs  and  groans,  and  the  like,  began  thus  to 
enter  into  some  talk  with  Christian. 

World.  How  now,  good  fellow,  whither  away  after  this 
burdened  manner  ? 

Chr.  a  burdened  manner,  indeed,  as  ever,  I  thiiil:,  j^oor 
creature  had !     And  whereas  you  ask  me.  Whither  away  ?     I 


20  MR.   WORLDLY   WISEMAN'S   TALK. 

tell  you,  sir,  I  am  going  to  yonder  wicket-gate  before  me ;  for 
there,  as  I  am  informed,  I  shall  be  put  into  a  way  to  be  rid  of 
my  heavy  burden. 

World.  Hast  thou  a  wife  and  children  ? 

Cur.  Yes ;  but  I  am  so  laden  with  this  burden,  that  I  can- 
not take  that  pleasure  in  them  as  formerly ;  methinks  I  am  as 
if  I  had  none.     (1  Cor.  vii.  29.) 

World.  Wilt  thou  hearken  to  me  if  I  give  thee  counsel  ? 

Chr.  If  it  be  good,  I  will;  for  I  stand  in  need  of  good 
counsel.* 

World.  I  would  advise  thee,  then,  that  thou  with  all  speed 
get  thyself  rid  of  thy  burden ;  for  thou  wilt  never  be  settled 
in  thy  mind  till  then  ;  nor  canst  thou  enjoy  the  benefits  of  the 
blessing  which  God  hath  bestowed  upon  thee  till  then. 

Chr.  That  is  that  which  I  seek  for,  even  to  be  rid  of  this 
heavy  burd<3n ;  but  get  it  off  myself  I  cannot :  nor  is  there 
any  man  in  our  country  that  can  take  it  off  my  shoulders-; 
therefore  am  I  going  this  way,  as  I  told  you,  that  I  may  be 
rid  of  my  burden. 

World.  Who  bid  thee  go  this  way  to  be  rid  of  thy  burden? 

CiiR.  A  man  that  appeared  to  me  to  be  a  very  great  and 
honourable  person ;  his  name,  as  I  remember,  is  Evangelist. 

World..  I  beshrew  him  for  his  counsel  I  there  is  not  a  more 
dangerous  and  troublesome  way  in  the  world,  than  is  that 
unto  which  he  hath  directed  thee ;  and-  that  thou  shalt  find  if 
thou  will  be  ruled  by  his  counsel.  Thou  hast  met  with  some- 
thing, as  I  perceive,  already ;  for  I  see  the  dirt  of  the  Slough 
of  Despond  is  upon  thee ;  but  that  slough  is  tlie  beginning  of 
the  sorrows  that  do  attend  those  that  go  on  in  that  way. 
Hear  me,  I  am  older  than  thou:  thou  art  like  to  meet  with,  in 
the  way  which  thou  goest,  wearisomencss,  painfulness,  hunger, 
perils,  nakedness,  sword,  lions,  dragons,  darkness,  and,  in  a 
word,  death,  and  what  not!  These  things  are  certainly  true, 
having  been  confirmed  by  many  testimonies.  And  why  should 
a  man  so  carelessly  cast  away  himself,  by  giving  heed  to  u 
stranger  'i 


AN  OBJECTION   TO   BIBLE   READING  21 

Chr.  Why,  sir,  this  burden  upon  my  back  is  more  terrible 
to  me  than  are  all  these  things  which  you  have  mentioned; 
nay,  methinks  I  care  not  What  I  meet  with  in  the  way,  if  so  be 
I  can  also  meet  with  deliverance  from  my  burden. 
World.  How  camest  thou  by  the  burden  at  first  ? 
Chr.  By  reading  this  Book  in  my  hand. 
World.  I  thought  so;  and  it  is  happened  unto  thee,  as  to 
other  weak   men,    who,  meddling  with  things  too  high  foi 
them,  do  suddenly  fall  into  thy  distractions;  which  distrac- 
tions do  not  only  unman  men,  as  thine,  I  perceive,  has  done 
thee,  bnt  they  run  them  upon  desperate  ventures,  to   obtain 
they  know  not  what. 

CiiR.  I  know  v/hat  I  would  obtain ;  it  is  ease  for  my  heavy 
burden. 

World.  But  why  wilt  thou  seek  for  ease  this  way,  seeing 
so  many  dangers  attend  it  ?  Especially  since,  hadst  thou  but 
patience  Lo  hear  me,  I  could  direct  thee  to  the  obtaining  of 
what  thou  desirest,  without  the  dangers  that  thou  in  this  way 
wilt  run  thyself  into ;  yea,  and  the  remedy  is  at  hand.  Be- 
sides, I  will  add  that,  instead  of  those  dangers,  thou  shalt 
meet  watli  much  safety,  friendship,  and  content. 
Chr.  Pray,  sir,  open  this  secret  to  me. 
World.  Why,  in  yonder  village — the  village  is  named 
Morality — there  dwells  a  gentleman  whose  name  is  Legality,  a 
very  judicious  man,  and  a  man  of  a  very  good  name,  that  has 
skill  to  help  men  off  with  such  burdens  as  thine  are  from  their 
shoulders:  yea,  to  my  knowledge,  he  hath  done  a  great  deal 
of  good  this  way;  ay,  and  besides,  he  hath  skill  to  cure  those 
that  are  somewhat  crazed  in  their  wits  v/ith  their  burdens. 
To  him,  as  I  said,  thou  mayest  go,  and  be  helped  2:)resently. 
His  house  is  not  quite  a  mile  from  this  place ;  and  if  he  should 
noc  be  at  home  himself,  he  hath  a  pretty  young  man  to  his 
son,  whose  name  is  Civility,  that  can  do  it  (to  speak  on). as 
well  as  the  old  gentleman  himself:  there,  I  say,  thou  mayest 
be  eased  of  thy  burden;  and  if  thou  art  not  minded  to  go 


23  CHRISTIAN   TURNS   OUT   OF   HIS   WAY. 

back  to  thy  former  habitation,  as  indeed  I  would  not  wish 
thee,  thou  may  est  send  for  thy  wife  and  children  to  thee  to 
this  village,  where  there  are  houses  now  stand  empty,  one  of 
which  thou  mayest  have  at  reasonable  rates ;  provision  is  there 
also  cheap  and  good  ;  and  that  which  will  make  thy  life  the 
more  happy  is,  to  be  sure  there  thou  shalt  live  by  honest 
neighbours,  in  credit  and  good     ashion. 

Now  was  Christian  somewhat  at  a  stand;  but  presently  he 
concluded.  If  this  be  true  which  this  gentleman  hath  said, 
my  wisest  course  is  to  take  his  advice:  and  with  that  he  thus 
further  spoke : — 

Chr.   Sir,  which  is  my  way  to  this  honest  man's  house? 

World.  Do  you  see  yonder  high  hill  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  very  well. 

World.  By  that  hill  you  must  go,  and  the  first  house  you 
come  at  is  his. 

So  Christian  turned  out  of  his  way  to  go  to  Mr.  Legality's 
house  for  help:  but  behold,  when  he  was  got  now  hard  by  the 
hill,  it  seemed  so  high,  and  also  that  side  of  it  that  was  next 
the  way-side  did  hang  so  much  over,  that  Christian  was  afraid 
to  venture  further,  lest  the  hill  should  fall  on  his  head ;  where- 
fore there  he  stood  still,  and  wotted  not  what  to  do.  Also  his 
burden  now  seemed  heavier  to  him  than  while  he  was  in  his 
way.  There  came  also  flashes 'of  fire  out  of  the  hill,  that 
made  Christian  afraid  that  he  should  be  burned.  (Ex.  xix.  16, 
18.)  Here  therefore  he  did  sweat,  and  quake  for  fear.  (Heb. 
xii.  21.) 

And  now  he  began  to  be  sorry  that  he  had  taken  Mr.  World- 
ly Wiseman's  counsel.  And  with  that  he  saw  Evangelist 
coming  to  meet  him;  at  the  sight  also  of  whom  he  began  to 
blush  for  shame.  So  Evangelist  drew  nearer  and  nearer;  and 
coming  up  to  him,  he  looked  upon  him  with  a  severe  and 
dreadful  countenance,  and  thus  began  to  reason  with  Christian. 

"What  doest  thou  here,  Christian?"  said  he;  at  which 
words  Christian  knew  not  what  to  answer;  wherefore,  at  pre* 


A  MAN  WHO  LOOKED  LIKE  A  GENTLEMAN.        23 

ent  he  stood  speechless  before  him.  Then  said  Evangelist 
further,  "  Art  not  thou  the  man  that  I  found  crying  without 
the  walls  of  the  City  of  Destruction  ?  '^ 

Chr.  Yes,  dear  sir,  I  am  the  man. 

Evan.  Did  not  I  direct  thee  the  way  to  the  little  wicket- 
gate  ? 

*' Yes,  dear  sir,"  said  Christian. 

Evan.  How  is  it,  then,  that  thou  art  so  quickly  turned 
aside  ?  for  thou  art  now  out  of  the  way. 

Chr.  I  met  with  a  gentleman  so  soon  as  I  had  got  over  the 
Slough  of  Despond,  who  persuaded  me  that  I  might  in  the 
village  before  me  find  a  man  that  could  take  off  my  burden. 

Evan.  What  was  he  ? 

Chr.  He  looked  like  a  gentleman,  and  talked  much  to  me, 
and  got  me  at  last  to  yield;  so  I  came  hither:  but  when  I  be- 
held this  hill,  and  how  it  hangs  over  the  way,  I  suddenly 
made  a  stand,  lest  it  should  fall  on  my  head. 

Evan.  What  said  that  gentleman  to  you  ? 

Chr.  Why,  he  asked  me  whither  I  was  going ;  and  I  told  him. 

Evan.  And  what  said  he  then  ? 

Chr.  He  asked  me  if  I  had  a  family ;  and  I  told  him.  But, 
said  I,  I  am  so  loaden  with  the  burden  that  is  on  my  back, 
that  I  cannot  take  pleasure  in  them  as  formerly. 

Evan.  And  what  said  he  then  ? 

Chr.  He  bid  me  with  speed  get  rid  of  my  burden;  and  I 
told  him  it  was  ease  that  I  sought :  and,  said  I.  I  am  therefore 
going  to  yonder  gate,  to  receive  further  direction  how  I  may 
get  to  the  place  of  deliverance.  So  he  said  that  he  would 
show  me  a  better  way,  and  short,  not  so  attended  with  diffi- 
culties as  the  way,  sir,  that  you  set  me ;  which  way,  said  he, 
will  direct  you  to  a  gentleman's  house  that  hath  skill  to  take 
off  these  burdens:  so  I  believed  him,  and  turned  out  of  that 
way  into  this,  if  haply  I  might  be  soon  eased  of  my  burden. 
But  when  I  came  to  this  place,  and  beheld  things  as  they\are, 
I  stopped  for  fear  (as  I  said)  of  danger :  but  I  now  know  not 
what  to  do. 


24  THE   HAZARD   CHRISTIAN   HAS   RUN. 

Hien  said  Evangelist,  ' '  Stand  still  a  little,  that  I  may  sho^v 
thee  the  words  of  God."  So  he  stood,  trembling.  Then  said 
Evangelist,  "  See  that  ye  refuse  not  Him  that  speak eth.  For 
if  they  escaped  not  who  refused  Him  that  spake  on  earth, 
much  more  shall  not  we  escape,  if  we  turn  away  from  him 
that  speaketh  from  heaven.  (Heb.  xii.  25.)  He  said,  more- 
over, *'Now  the  just  shall  live  by  faith;  but  if  any  man  draw 
back,  my  soul  shall  have  no  pleasure  in  him."  (Heb.  x.  38.) 
He  also  did  thus  apply  them :  ''  Thou  art  the  man  that  art  run- 
ning into  this  misery;  thou  hast  begun  to  reject  the  counsel 
of  the  Most  High,  and  to  draw  back  thy  foot  from  the  way  of 
peace,  even  almost  to  the  hazard  of  thy  perdition." 

Then  Christian  fell  down  at  his  foot  as  dead,  crying,  **Woe 
is  me,  for  I  am  undone  !  "  At  the  sight  of  which,  Evangelist 
caught  him  by -the  right  hand,  saying,  "All  manner  of  sin  and 
blasphemy  shall  be  forgiven  unto  men.  (Matt.  xii.  31 ;  Mark 
iii.  28.)  Be  not  faithless,  but  believing."  (John  xx.  27.) 
Then  did  Christian  again  a  little  revive,  and  stood  up  trem- 
bling, as  at  first,  before  Evangelist. 

Then  Evangelist  proceeded,  saying,  "Give  more  earnest 
heed  to  the  things  that  I  shall  tell  thee  of.  I  will  now  show 
thee  who  it  was  that  deluded  thee  and  who  it  was  also  to 
whom  he  sent  thee.  The  man  that  met  thee  is  one  Worldly 
Wiseman,  and  rightly  is  he  so  called :  partly  because  he  savour- 
eth  only  the  doctrine  of  this  world  (1  Johniv.  5.),  therefore 
\e  always  goes  to  the  town  of  Morality  to  church;  and  partly 
because  he  loveth  that  doctrine  best,  for  it  saveth  him  from 
the  cross.  (Gal.  vi.  12.)  And  because  he  is  of  this  carnal 
jemper,  therefore  he  seekethto  prevert  my  ways,  though  right. 
Now  there  are  three  things  in  this  man's  counsel  that  thou 
must  utterly  abhor. 

"  1.  His  turning  thee  out  of  the  way. 

*'  2.  His  labouring  to  render  the  cross  odious  to  thee. 

'*3.  And  his  setting  thy  feet  in  that  way  that  lead  eth  unto 
the  administration  of  death. 


FRIENDLY  ADVICE.  25 

**  First,  thou  must  abhor  his  turning  thee  out  of  the  way; 
yea,  and  thine  own  consenting  thereto :  because  this  is  to  re- 
ject the  counsel  of  God  for  the  sake  of  the  counsel  of  a  World- 
ly Wiseman.  The  Lord  says,  '  Strive  to  enter  in  at  the  strait 
gate'  (Luke  xiii.  24),  the  gate  to  which  I  send  thee;  'for 
strait  is  the  gate  which  leadeth  unto  life,  and  few  there  be 
that  find  it.'  (Matt.  vii.  14.)  From  this  little  wicket-gate, 
and  from  the  way  thereto,  hath  this  wicked  man  turned  thee, 
to  the  bringing  of  thee  almost  to  destruction ;  hate,  therefore, 
his  turning  thee  out  of  the  way,  and  abhor  thyself  for  heark- 
ening to  him. 

"Secondly,  thou  must  abhor  hi^  labouring  to  render  the 
cross  odious  unto  thee;  for  thou  art  to  prefer  it  'before  the 
treasures  in  Egypt.'  (Heb.  xi.  25,  26.)  Besides,  the  King  of 
glory  hath  told  thee,  that  he  that  will  cave  his  life  shall  lose 
it  (Matt.  X.  39;  Mark.  viii.  35;  John  xii.  25),  and  he  that 
comes  after  Him,  and  hates  not  his  father,  and  mother,  and 
wife,  and  children,  and  brethren,  and  sisters,  yea,  and  his 
own  life  also,  'he  cannot  be  my  disciple.'  (Luke  xiv.  26.) 
i  say,  therefore,  for  a  man  to  labour  to  persuade  thee  that  that 
shall  be  thy  death,  without  which,  the  Truth  hath  said,  thou 
canst  not  have  eternal  life,  this  doctrine  thou  must  abhor. 

*' Thirdly,  thou  must  hate  his  setting  of  thy  feet  in  the 
way  that  leadeth  to  the  ministration  of  death.  And  for  this 
thou  must  consider  to  whom  he  sent  thee,  and  also  how  un- 
able that  person  was  to  deliver  thee  from  thy  burden. 

"He  to  whom- thou  wast  sent  for  ease,  being  by  name  Le- 
gality, is  tho  son  of  the  bond-woman  which  now  is,  and  is  in 
bondage  with  her  children  (Gal.^.  21-27),  and  is,  in  a  mys- 
tery, this  Mount  Sinai,  which  thou  hast  feared  will  fall  on  thy 
head.  Now,  if  she  with  her  children  are  in  bondage,  hoW 
canst  thou  expect  by  them  to  be  made  free  ?  This  Legality, 
therefore,  is  not  able  to  set  thee  free  from  thy  burden.  No 
man  was  as  yet  ever  rid  of  his  burden  by  him ;  no,  nor  ever  is 
Like  to  be :  ye  cannot  be  justified  by  the  works  of  the  law ;  for 


26  CHRISTIANAS  SELF-REPROACH 

by  the  deeds  of  the  law  no  man  living  can  be  rid  of  his  bur- 
den:  therefore,  Mr.  Worldly  Wiseman  is  an  alien,  and  Mr. 
Legality  is  a  cheat ;  and  for  his  son  Civility,  notwithstanding 
his  simpering  looks,  he  is  but  a  hypocrite,  and  cannot  help 
thee.  Believe  me,  there  is  nothing  in  all  this  noise  that  thou 
hast  heard  of  these  sottish  men,  but  a  design  to  beguile  thee 
of  thy  salvation,  by  turning  thee  from  the  way  in  which  I  had 
set  thee." 

After  this,  Evangelist  called  aloud  to  the  heavens  for  con- 
firmation of  what  he  had  said:  and  with  that  there  came 
T  3rds  and  fire  out  of  the  mountain  under  which  poor  Chris- 
tian stood,  that  made  the  hair  of  his  flesh  stand  up.  The 
words  were  thus  pronounced :  '*  As  many  as  are  of  the  works 
of  the  law  are  under  the  curse :  for  it  is  written.  Cursed  is 
every  one  that  continueth  not  in  all  things  which  are  written 
in  the  book  of  the  law  to  do  them."     (Gal.  iii.  10.) 

Now  Christian  looked  for  nothing  but  death,  and  began  to 
cry  out  lamentably ;  even  cursing  the  time  in  wliich  he  met 
with  Mr.  Worldly  Wiseman;  still  calling  himself  a  thousand 
fools  for  hearkening  to  his  counsel;  he  also  was  greatly 
ashamed  to  think  that  this  gentleman's  arguments,  flowing 
only  from  the  flesh,  should  have  that  prevalency  with  hi;n  as 
to  cause  him  to  forsake  the  right  way.  This  done,  he  applied 
himself  again  to  Evangelist  in  words  and  sense  as  follows : 

Chr.  Sir,  what  think  you  ?  Is  there  hope  ?  May  I  now 
go  back  and  go  up  to  the  wicket-gate  ?  Shall  I  not  be  aban- 
doned for  this,  and  sent  back  from  thence  ashamed  ?  I  am 
sorry  I  have  hearkened  to  this  man's  counsel ;  but  may  my  sin 
be  forgiven  ? 

'  Then  said  Evangelist  to  him :  *^  Thy  sin  is  very  great,  for 
by  it  thou  hast  committed  two  evils ;  thou  hast  forsaken  the 
way  that  is  good,  to  tread  in  forbidden  paths:  yet  will  the 
man  at  the  gate  receive  thee,  for  he  has  good-will  for  men; 
only,"  said  he,  ''take  heed  that  thou  turn  not  aside  again, 
'lest  thou  pprish  from  the  way,  when  his  wrath  is  kindled  but 
a  little.'"     v^sa.  ii.  12.) 


CHRISTIAN  RETURNS  TO  THE  RIGST  PATH.        27 

Then  did  Christian  address  himself  to  go  back:  and  Evan* 
gelist,  after  he  had  kissed  him,  gave  him  one  smile,  and  bid 
him  God-speed.  So  he  went  on  with  haste;  neither  spake  he 
to  any  man  by  the  way;  nor,  if  any  asked  him,  would  he 
vouchsafe  them  an  answer.  He  went  like  one  that  was  all  the 
while  treading  on  forbidden  ground,  and  could  by  no  means 
tliink  himself  safe,  till  again  he  was  got  into  the  way  which 
he  left  to  follow  Mr.  Worldly  Wiseman's  counsel.  So  in  pro- 
cess of  time  Christian  got  np  to  the  gate.  Now,  over  the 
gate  there  was  written,  "Knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened  unto 
you."     (Matt.  vii.  7.} 

He  knocked,  therefore,  more  than  once  or  twice,  saying — 

"  May  I  now  enter  here  !     Will  he  within 
Open  to  sorry  me,  though  I  have  been 
An  undeserving  rebel?     Then  shall  I 
Not  fail  to  sing  his  lasting  praise  on  high. " 

At  last  there  came  a  grave  person  to  the  gate,  named  Good- 
will, who  asked  who  was  there,  and  whence  he  came,  and 
what  he  would  have. 

Chr.  Here  is  a  poor  burdened,  sinner.  I  come  from  the 
City  of  Destruction,  but  am  going  to  Mount  Zion,  that  I  may 
be  delivered  from  the  wrath  to  come.  I  would  therefore,  sir, 
since  I  am  informed  that  by  this  gate  is  the  way  thither,  know 
if  you  are  willing  to  let  me  in. 

"I  am  willing  with  all  my  heart,"  said  he;  and  with  that 
he  opened  the  gate. 

So  when  Christian  was  stepping  in,  the  other  gave  him  a 
pull.  Then  said  Christian,  *'  What  means  that  ?  "  The  other 
told  him,  "A  little  distance  from  this  gate  there  is  erected  a 
strong  castle,  of  which  Beelzebub  is  the  captain ;  from  thence, 
both  he  and  them  that  are  with  him  shoot  arrows  at  those 
that  come  up  to  this  gate,  if  haply  they  may  die  Before  they 
can  enter  in." 

Then  said  Christian,  **  I  rejoice  and  tremble."     So  when  he 


28  CHRISTIAN   AND   GOOD- WILL. 

was  got  in,  the  man  of  the  gate  asked  him  who  directed  him 
thither. 

Cnii.  Evangelist  bid  me  come  hither,  and  knock  (as  I  did) ; 
and  he  said  that  you,  sir,  would  tell  me  what  I  must  do. 

Good-will.  An  open  door  is  set  before  thee,  and  no  man 
can  shut  it, 

Chr.  Now  I  begin  to  reap  the  benefits  of  my  hazards. 

Good- WILL.  But  h  ow  is  it  that  you  came  alone  ? 

Chr.  Because  none  of  my  neighbours  saw  their  danger  as  I 
saw  mine. 

Good-will.  Did  any  of  them  know  of  j^our  coming  ? 

Chr.  Yes ;  my  wife  and  children  saw  me  at  the  first,  and 
called  after  me  to  turn  again ;  also,  some  of  my'  neighbours 
stood  crying  and  calling  after  me  to  return ;  but  I  put  my 
fingers  in  my  ears,  and  so  came  on  my  way. 

Good-will.  But  did  none  of  them  follow  you,  to  persuade 
you  to  go  back  ? 

Gnu.  Yes,  both  Obstinate  and  Pliable ;  but  when  they  saw 
that  they  could  not  prevail.  Obstinate  went  railing  back,  but 
Pliable  came  with  me  a  little  way. 

Good-will.  But  why  did  he  not  come  through  ? 

Chr.  Wc  indeed  came  both  together,  until  we  came  at  the 
Slough  of  Despond,  into  tlie  which  we  also  suddenly  fell. 
And  then  was  my  neighbour  Pliable  discouraged,  and  would 
not  adventure  further.  Wherefore,  getting  out  again  on  that 
side  next  to  his  own  house  he  told  me  I  should  possess  the 
brave  country  alone  for  him ;  so  he  went  his  way,  and  I  catne 
mine — he  after  Obstinate,  and  I  to  this  gate. 

Then  said  Good- will,  *'Alas,  poor  man  !  is  the  celestial 
glory  of  so  small  esteem  with  him,  that  he  counteth  it  not 
worth  running  the  hazards  of  a  few  difficulties  to  obtain  it  ? '' 

^'  Truly,"  said  Christian,  "  I  have  said  the  truth  of  Pliable, 
and  if  I  sl^uld  also  say  all  the  truth  of  myself,  it  will  appear 
there  is  no  betterment  betwixt  him  and  myself.  It  is  true,  he 
went  back  to  his  own  house,  but  I  also  turned  aside  to  go  in 


CHRISTIAN'S   NARROW   ESCAPE.  29 

the  way  of  death,  being  persuaded  thereto  by  the  carnal  argu- 
ments of  one  ]Mr.  Worldly  Wiseman." 

Good-will.  Oh !  did  he  light  upon  you  ?  What  !  he  would 
have  had  you  a  sought  for  ease  at  the  hands  of  Mr  Legality. 
They  are,  botli  of  them,  a  very  cheat.  But  did  you  take  his 
counsel  ?  ^ 

Ciin.  Yes,  so  far  as  I  durst :  I  went  to  find  out  Mr.  Legality, 
until  I  thought  that  the  mountain  that  stands  by  his  house 
would  have  fallen  upon  my  head;  wherefore,  there  I  was 
forced  .to  stop. 

Good-will.  That  mountain  has  been  the  death  of  many, 
and  will  be  the  death  of  many  more ;  it  is  well  you  escaped 
being  by  it  dashed  in  pieces. 

Cnii.  Why,  truly,  I  do  not  know  what  had  become  of  me 
there,  had  not  Evangelist  happily  met  me  again,  as  I  was 
musing  in  the  midst  of  my  dumps;  but  it  was  God's  mercy 
that  he  came  to  me  again,  for  else  I  had  never  cojn.e  liither. 
But  now  I  am  come,  such  a  one  as  I  am,  more  fit,  indeed,  for 
death,  by  that  mountain,  than  thus  to  stand  talking  with  my 
Lord;  but,  oh,  what  a  favour  is  this  to  me,  that  yet  I  am  ad- 
mitted entrance  liere ! 

Good-will.  We  make  no  objections  against  any,  notwith- 
standing all  that  they  have  done  before  they  came  hither. 
They  are  "in  no  wise  cast  out"  (John  vi,  37),  and  therefore, 
good  Christian,  come  a  little  way  with  me,  and  I  will  teach 
thee  about  the  way  thou  must  go.  Look  before  thee;  dost 
thou  see  this  narrow  way  ?  That  is  the  way  thou  must  go;  it 
was  cast  up  by  the  patriarchs,  prophets,  Christ,  and  hi^ 
apostles ;  and  it  is  as  straight  as  a  rule  can  make  it.  This  is 
the  way  thou  must  go. 

"But,"  said  Christian,  "are  there  no  turnings  or  windings, 
by  which  a  stranger  may  lose  his  way  ?  " 

Good-will.  Yes,  there  are  many  ways  butt*  down  upon 

*  Abut,. or  border  upon. 


30  HOW  TO   GET   RID   OF   THE   BURDEN. 

this,  and  they  are  crooked  and  wide.  But  thus  thou  mayest 
distinguish  the  right  from  the  wrong,  the  right  only  being 
straight  and  narrow.     (Matt.  vii.  14.) 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  Christian  asked  him  further 
if  he  could  not  help  him  off  with  his  burden  that  was  upon 
his  back;  for  as  yet  he  liad  not  got  rid  thereof,  nor  could  he 
by  any  means  get  it  off  without  help. 

He  told  him,  '*As  to  thy  burden,  be  content  to  bear  it, 
until  thou  comest  to  the  place  of  deliverance;  for  there  it  will 
fall  from  thy  back  of  itself." 

Then  Christian  began  to  gird  up  his  loins,  and  to  address 
himself  to  his  journey.  So  the  other  told  him  that  by  that  he 
Was  gone  some  distance  irom  the  gate,  he  would  come  at  the 
house  of  the  Interpreter,  at  whose  door  he  should  knock,  and 
he  would  show  him  excellent  things.  Then  Christian  took 
his  leave  of  his  friend,  and  he  again  bid  him  God-speed. 

Then  he  went  on  till  he  came  at  the  house  of  the  Interpre- 
ter, where  he  knocked  over:  at  last  one  came  to  the  door,  and 
asked  who  was  there. 

Cur.  Sir,  here  is  a  traveller,  who  was  bid  by  an  acquain- 
tance of  the  good-man  of  this  house  to  call  here  for  my  profit ; 
I  would  therefore  speak  with  the  master  of  the  house. 

So  he  called  for  the  master  of  the  house,  who,  after  a  little 
time,  came  to  Cnristian,  and  asked  him  what  he  would  have. 
*'  Sir,"  said  Christian,  ''I  am  a  man  that  am  come  from  the 
City  of  Destruction,  and  am  going  to  the  Mount  Zion ;  and  I 
was  told  by  the  man  that  stands  at  the  gate,  at  the  head  of 
this  way,  that  if  I  called  here,  you  would  show  me  excellent 
things,  such  as  would  be  a  help  to  me  in  my  journey," 

Then  said  the  Interpreter,  "Come  in;  I  will  show  thee  that 
which  will  be  profitable  to  thee."  So  he  commanded  his  man 
to  light  the  candle,  and  bid  Christian  follow  him^  So  he  had 
him  into  a  private  room,  and  bid  his  man  open  a  door;  the 
which  when  he  had  done,  Christian  saw  the  pictureof  a  very 
grave  person  hang    up  against  the  wall;   and  this  was  the 


ONE  OF  A  THOUSAND.  31 

fashion  of  it.  It  had  eyes  lifted  up  to  heaven,  the  best  ol 
books  in  his  hand,  the  law  of  truth  was  written  upon  his  lips, 
the  world  was  behind  his  back ;  it  stood  as  if  it  pleaded  with 
men,  and  a  crown  of  gold  did  hang  over  his  head. 

Then  said  Christian,  '*  What  means  this  ?  " 

Inter.  The  man  whose  picture  this  is,  is  one  of  a  thousand ; 
he  can  beget  children  (1  Cor.  iv.  15),  travail  in  birth  with 
children  (Gal.  iv.  19),  and  nurse  them  himself  when  they  are 
born.  And  \^hereas  thou  seest  him  with  his  eyes  lift  up  to 
heaven,  the  best  of  books  in  his  hand,  and  the  law  of  truth 
writ  on  his  lips,  it  is  to  show  thee  that  his  work  is  to  know 
and  unfold  dark  things  to  sinners;  even  as  also  thou  seest  him 
stand  as  if  he  pleaded  with  men.  And  whereas  thou  seest 
the  world  as  cast  behind  him,  and  that  a  crown  hangs  over  his 
liead,  that  is  to  show  thee  that  slighting  and  despising  the 
things  that  are  present,  for  the  love  that  he  hath  to  his  Mas- 
ter's service,  he  is  sure  in  the  world  that  comes  next  to  have 
glory  for  his  reward. 

''Now,"  said  the  Interpreter,  *'Ihave  showed  thee  this 
picture  first,  because  the  man  whose  picture  this  is,  is  the 
only  man  whom  the  Lord  of  the  place  whither  thou  art  going 
hath  authorized  to  be  thy  guide  in  all  difficult  places  thou 
mayest  meet  with  in  the  way :  wherefore,  take  good  heed  to 
what  I  have  showed  thee,  and  bear  well  in  thy  mind  what 
thou  hast  seen,  lest  in  thy  journey  thou  meet  with  some  that 
pretend  to  lead  the  right,  but  their  way  goes  down  to  death." 

Then  he  took  him  by  the  hand,  and  led  him  into  a  very 
large  parlour  that  was  full  of  dust,  because  never  swept;  the 
which  after  he  had  reviewed  a  little  while,  the  Interpreter 
called  for  a  man  to  sweep.  Now,  when  he  began  to  sweep, 
the  dust  began  so  abundantly  to  fly  about,  that  Christian  had 
almost  therewith  been  choked.  Then  said  the  Interpreter  to 
a  damsel  that  stood  by,  "  Bring  hither  the  water,  and  sprin- 
kle the  room;"  the  which  when  she  had  done,  it  was  swept 
and  cleansed  with  pleasure. 


32        THE  PARLOUR  AND  THE  DUST. 

Then  said  Christian,  ''  What  means  this  ? " 

The  Interpreter  answered,  ''This  parlour  is  the  heart  of  a 
man  that  was  never  sanctified  by  the  sweet  grace  of  the  gos- 
pel; the  dust  is  his  original  sin  and  inward  corruptions  that 
have  defiled  the  whole  man.  He  that  began  to  sweep  at  first 
is  the  Law;  but  she  that  brought  water  and  did  sprinkle  it 
is  the  Gospel.  Now,  whereas  thou  sawest  that  so  soon  as  the 
first  began  to  sweep,  the  dust  did  so  fly  about  that  the  room 
by  him  could  not  be  cleansed,  but  that  thou  wast  choked 
therewith;  this  is  to  show  thee  that  the  law,  instead  of  cleans- 
ing the  heart  (by  its  working)  from  sin,  doth  revive,  put 
strength  into,  and  increase  it  in  the  soul,  even  as  it  doth 
discover  and  forbid  it,  for  it  doth  not  give  power  to 
subdue.     (RouK  vii.  9;  1  Cor.  xv.  50;  Rom.  v.  20) 

"  Again-,  as  thou  sawest  the  damsel  sprinkle  the  room  with 
water,  upon  which  it  was  cleansed  with  pleasure ;  this  is  to 
show  thee  that  when  the  gospel  comes  in  the  sweet  and  pre- 
cious influences  thereof  to  the  heart,  then,  I  say,  even  as  thou 
sawest  the  damsel  lay  the  dust  by  sprinkling  the  floor  with 
water,  so  is  sin  vanquished  and  subdued,  and  the  soul  made 
clean  through  the  faith  of  it,  and  consequently  fit  for  the 
King  of  glory  to  inhabit."  (John  xv.  3;  Eph.  v.  26;  Acts 
XV.  9;  Rom.  xvi.  25,  26.) 

I  saw,  moreover,  in  my  dream,  that  the  Interpreter  took 
him  by  the  hand,  and  had  him  into  a  little  room,  where  sat 
two  little  children,  each  one  in  his  chair.  The  name  of  the 
eldest  was  Passion,  and  the  name  of  the  other  Patience. 
Passion  seemed  to  be  much  discontent,  but  Patience  was  very 
quiet.  Then  Christian  asked,  "What  is  the  reason  of  the  dis- 
content of  Passion  ?  "  The  Interpreter  answered,  ''  The  gov- 
ernor of  them  would  have  him  stay  for  his  best  things  till  the 
beginning  of  the  next  year;  but  he  will  have  all  now;  but 
Patience  is  willing  to  wait." 

Then  I  saw  that  one  came  to  Passion,  and  brought  him  a 
bag  of  treasure,  and  poured  it  down  at  his  feet,  the  which  he 


THE  MAl^  IN  THE  lEON  nAGE.-^Pace  36. 


THE   TWO   LITTLE   CHILDREN.  83 

took  up  and  rejoiced  therein,  and  withal  laughed  Patience 
to  scorn.  But  I  beheld  but  a  while,  and  he  had  lavished  all 
away,  and  had  nothing  left  him  but  rags. 

Then  said  Christian  to  the  Interpreter,  "Expound  this  mat- 
ter more  fully  to  me."* 

So  he  said,  ''These  two  lads  are  figures;  Passion,  of  the 
men  of  this  world ;  and  Patience,  of  the  men  of  that  which 
is  to  come;  for  as  here  thou  seest  Passion  will  have  all  now, 
this  year,  that  is  to  say,  in  this  world,  so  are  the  men  of  this 
world;  they  must  have  all  their  good  things  now;  they  can- 
not stay  till  next  year,  that  is,  until  the  next  world,  for  their 
portion  of  gooql.  That  proverb,  '  A  bird  in  the  hand  is 
worth  two  in  the  bush,*  is  of  more  authority  with  them  than 
are  all  of  the  divine  testiQionies  of  the  good  of  the  world 
to  come.  But  as  thou  sawest  that  he  had  quickly  lavished 
all  away,  and  had  presently  left  him  nothing  but  rags,  so 
will  it  be  with  all  such  men  at  the  end  of  this  world." 

Then  said  Christian,  "  Now  I  see  that  Patience  has  the  best 
wisdom;  and  that  upon  many  accounts.  1.  Because  he  stays 
for  the  best  things.  2.  And  also  because  he  will  have  the 
glory  of  his,  when  the  other  has  nothing  but  rags." 

Inter.  Nay,  you  may  add  another,  to  wit,  The  glory  of  the 
next  world  will  never  wear  out;  but  these  are  suddenly  gone. 
Therefore  Passion  had  not  so  much  reason  to  laugh  at  Patience 
because  he  had  his  good  things  first,  as  Patience  will  have  to 
laugh  at  Passion,  because  he  had  his  best  things  last;  for 
first  must  give  place  to  last,  because  last  must  have  his  time 
to  come;  but  last  gives  place  to  nothing;  for  there  is  nothing 
,to  succeed.  He,  therefore,  that  hatli  his  portion  first  must 
needs  have  a  time  to  spend  it;  but  he  that  hath  his  JDortion 
last  must  have  it  lastingly;  therefore  it  is  said  of  Dives, 
"Thou  in  thy  lifetime  receivedst  thy  good  things  and  like- 
wise Lazarus  evil  things:  but  now  he  is  comforted,  and  thou 

art  tormented."     (Luke  xvi.  25.) 
p.  r.— '2. 


84  THINGS   SEEN  AND   UNSEEN. 

dm.  Then  I  perceive  it  is  not  best  to  covet  things  that 
are  now,  but  wait  for  things  to  come. 

Inter.  You  say  the  truth:  *'  For  the  things  which  are  seen 
are  temporal;  but  the  tilings  which  are  not  seen  are  eternal." 
(2  Cor.  iv.  13.)  But  though  this  be  ^,  yet  since  things  pres- 
ent and  our  fleshly  appetite  are  such  near  neighbours  one  to 
another;  and  again,  because  things  to  come  and  carnal  sense 
are  such  strangers  one  to  another;  therefore  it  is  that  the  first 
of  these  so  suddenly  fall  into  amity,  and  that  distance  is  so 
continued  between  the  second. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  the  Interpreter  took  Christian 
by  the  hand,  and  led  him  into  a  place  where  was  a  fire  burn- 
ing against  a  wall,  and  one  standing  by  it  always,  casting 
much  water  upon  it  to  quench  it :  yet  did  the  fire  burn  higher 
and  hotter. 

Then  said  Christian,  *'  What  means  this  ?  " 

The  Interpreter  answered,  ^'Tliis  fire  is  the  work  of  grace 
that  is  wrought  in  the  heart:  he  that  casts  water  upon  it,  to 
extinguish  it  and  put  it  out,  is  the  Devil  ;  but  in  that  thou 
seest  the  fire  notwithstanding  burn  higher  and  hotter,  thou 
shalt  also  see  the  reason  of  that."  So  he  had  him  about  to 
the  backside  of  the  wall,  where  he  saw  a  man  with  a  vessel  of 
oil  in  his  hand,  of  the  which  he  did  also  continually  cast,  but 
secretly,  into  the  fire. 

Then  said  Christian,  ''What  means  this  ?  " 

The  Interpreter  answered,  "This  is  Christ,  who  continual- 
ly, with  the  oil  of  his  grace,  maintains  the  work  already  be- 
gun in  the  heart,  by  the  means  of  which,  notwithstanding 
what  the  Devil  can  do,  the  souls  of  his  people  prove  gracious 
still.  (2  Cor.  xii.  9.)  And  in  that  thou  sawest  that  the  man 
stood  behind  the  wall  to  maintain  the  fire,  that  is  to  teach 
thee  that  it  is  hard  for  the  tempted  to  see  how  this  work  of 
grace  is  maintained  in  the  soul." 

I  saw  also  that  the  Interpreter  took  him  again  by  the  hand, 
and  led  him  into  a  'pleasant  place,  where  was  buildc^  a  state- 


THE  VALIANT  MAN.  85 

ly  palace,  beantifiil  to  beliold ;  at  the  sight  of  which  Christian 
Wi.s  greatly  delighted.  He  saw  also,  upon  the  top  thereof, 
certain  persons  walking,  who  were  clothed  all  in  gold. 
Then  said  Christian,  "May  we  go  in  thither  ?  " 
Then  the  Interpreter  took  liiin  and  led  him  up  towards  the 
door  of  the  palace;  and  behold,  at  the  door  stood  a  great 
company  of  men,  as  desirous  to  go  in,  but  durst  not.  There 
also  sat  a  men  at  a  little  distance  from  the  door,  at  a  table- 
side,  witli  a  book  and  his  iukhorn  before,  to  take  the  name  of 
him  that  should  cuter  therein;  he  saw  also  that  in  the  door- 
way stood  many  meu  in  armour,  to  keep  it,  being  resolved  to 
do  the  men  that  would  enter  what  hurt  and  mischief  they 
could.  Now  was  Christian  somewhat  in  amaze.  At  last, 
when  every  man  started  back  for  fear  of  the  armed  men, 
Christian  saw  a  man  of  very  stout  countenance  come  up  to  the 
man  that  sat  there  to  write,  saying,  "Set  down  my  name, 
sir:  "  the  which  when  he  had  done,  he  saw  the  man  draw  his 
sword,  and  put  an  helmet  upon  his  head,  and  rush  towards  the 
door  upon  the  armed  men,  who  laid  upon  him  with  deadly 
force ;  but  the  man,  not  at  all  discouraged,  fell  to  cutting  and 
hacking  most  fiercely.  So,  after  he  had  received  and  given 
many  wounds  to  those  that  had  attempted  to  keep  him  out,  he 
cut  his  way  through  them  all  (Acts  xiv.  22),  and  pressed  for- 
wai-d  into  the  palace,  at  which  there  was  a  pleasant  voice 
heard  from  those  that  were  within,  even  of  those  that  walked 
upon  the  top  of  the  palace,  saying : 

**  Come  in,  come  in  ; 
Eternal  glory  thou  slialt  win/> 

So  he  went  in,  and  was  clothed  with  such  garments  as  they. 
Then  Christian  smiled  and  said,  "I  think  verily  I  know  the 
meaning  of  this." 

"  Now,"  said  Christian,  "  let  me  go  hence."  *'  Nay,  stay," 
said  the  Interpreter,  "till  I  have  showed  thee  a  little  more, 
and  after  that  thou  shalt  go  on  thy  way."     So  he  took  him  by 


36  A  MAN  IN  A^T  IRON  CAGE. 

the  hand  again,  and  led  him  into  a  very  dark  room,  where 
there  sat  a  man  in  an  iron  cage. 

Now  the  man,  to  look  on,  seemed  very  sad:  he  sac  with  his 
eyes  looking  down  to  the  ground,  his  hands  folded  together; 
and  he  sighed  as  if  he  woald  break  his  heart.  Then  said 
Christian,  ''What  means  this?"  At  v/hich  the  Interpreter 
bid  liim  talk  with  the  man. 

Then  said  Christian  t^  tiis  man,  "What  art  thou?"  The 
man  answered,  "  I  am  wj.at  I  was  not  once^" 

Chr.  What  wast  thou  once  ? 

The  man  said,  "  I  was  once  a  fair  and  flourishing  professor, 
both  in  mine  own  eyes,  and  also  in  the  eyes  of  others;  I  once 
was,  as  I  thought,  fair  for  the  Celestial  City,  and  had  then 
even  joy  at  the  thoughts  that  I  should  get  thither."  (Luke 
viii.  13.) 

Chr.  Well,  but  what  art  thou  now? 

Man.  I  am  now  a  man  of  despair,  and  T  am  shut  up  in  it, 
as  in  this  iron  cage.     I  cannot  get  out.     Oh,  now  I  cannot  ! 

CiiR.   But  how  camest  thou  in  this  condition  ? 

Man.  I  left  off  to  watch  and  be  sober ;  1  laid  the  reins  upon 
the  neck  of  my  lusts;  I  sinned  against  the  light  of  the  Word, 
»nd  the  goodness  of  God ;  I  have  grieved  the  Spirit,  and  he  is 
gone^  I  tempted  the  devil,  and  he  is  come  to  me;  I  have  pro- 
voked God  to  anger,  and  he  has  left  me :  I  have  so  hardened 
my  heart  that  I  cannot  repent. 

Then  said  Christian  to  the  Interpreter,  "But  is  there  no 
hope  for  such  a  man  as  this?"  "Ask  him,"  said  the  Inter- 
preter. 

Then  said  Christian,  "  Is  there  no  hope,  but  you  must  be 
kept  in  the  iron  cage  of  despair  ? " 

Man.  No,  none  at  all.  y^ 

Chr.  Why,  the  Son  of  the  Blessed  is  very  pitiful, 

Man.  I  have  crucified  Him  to  myself  afresh  (Heb.  vi.  6) ;  I 
have  despised  His  person  (Luke  xix.  14) ;  I  have  despised  Tlis 
righteousness;  I  have  "counted  his  blood  an  unholy  tiling  ;" 


MISERY  OF  UNBELIEF  AND  DESPAIR.  37 

I  have  '*  done  despite  unto  the  Spirit  of  grace."  illeb.  x.  28, 
29.)  Tlieiefore  have  I  shut  myself  out  of  all  tlie  promises, 
and  there  now  remains  to  me  nothing  but  tbreatenings,  dread- 
ful threatenings,  fearful  tbreatenings  of  certain  judgment  and 
fiery  indignation,  wliich  sball  devour  me  as  an  adversary. 

Chr.  For  what  did  you  bring  yourself  into  this  condition  ? 

Man.  For  the  lusts,  pleasures,  and  profits  of  this  world; 
in  the  enjoyment  of  which  I  did  tlieu  promise  myself  much 
delight ;  but  now  every  one  of  those  things  also  bite  me,  and 
gnaw  me  like  a  burning  worm. 

Chr.  But  canst  thou  not  repent  and  turn  ? 

Man.  God  hath  denied  me  repentance.  His  word  gives  me 
no  encouragement  to  believe ;  yea,  himself  hath  shut  me  up 
in  this  iron  cage ;  nor  can  all  the  men  in  the  world  let  me  out. 
O  eternity,  eternity  !  how  shall  I  grapple  with  the  misery 
that  I  must  meet  with  in  eternity  !/ 

Then  said  the  Interpreter  to  Christian,  "Let  this  man's 
misery  be  remembered  by  the§,  and  be  an  everlasting  caution 
to  thee." 

"Well,"  said  Christian,  "this  is  fearful  !  God  help  me  to 
watch  and  be  sober,  and  to  pray  that  1  may  shun  the  cause  of 
this  man's  misery  !  Sir,  is  it  not  time  for  me  to  go  on  my 
way  now  ? " 

Inter.  Tarry  till  I  shall  show  thee  one  thing  more,  and 
then  thou  shalt  go  on  thy  way. 

So  he  took  Christian  by  the  hand  again,  and  led  him  into 
a  chamber,  wliere  there  was  one  rising  out  of  bed  ;  and  as  he 
put  on  his  raiment,  he  shook  and  trembled.  Then  said  Chris- 
tian, "Why  doth  this  man  thus  tremble  ?  "  The  Interpreter 
then  bid  liim  tell  to  Christian  the  reason  of  his  so  doing.  So 
he  began  and  said,  "This  night,  as  I  was  in  my  sleep,  I 
dreamed,  and  behold  the  heavens  grew  exceedingly  black; 
also  it  thundered  and  lightened  in  most  fearful  wise,  that  i'. 
put  me  into  au  agony.     So  I  looked  up  in  my  dream  and  snYi 


38  THE  JUDGMENT. 

the  clouds  rack*  at  an  unusual  rate,  upon  which  1  heard  ^ 
great  sound  of  a  trumpet,  and  saw  also  a  Man  sit  upon  a 
cloud,  attended  with  the  thousands  of  heaven ;  they  were  all 
in  flaming  flre :  also  the  heavens  were  on  a  burning  flame.  I 
heard  then  a  voice  saying,  'Arise,  ye  dead,  and  come  to  judg- 
ement;' and  with  that  the  rocks  rent,  the  graves  opened,  and 
*the  dead  that  were  therein  came  forth.  Some  of  them  were 
exceedingly  glad,  and  looked  upward;  and  some  sought  to 
hide  themselves  under  the  mountains.  (1  Cor.  xv.  52;  1  Thess. 
iv.  16;  Jude  14;  John  v.  28:  2  Thess.  i.  8;  Rev.  xx.  11-14; 
Isa.  xxvi.  21;  Micah  vii.  16,  17;  Psa.  xcvi.  1-3;  Dan.  vii.  10.) 
Then  I  saw  the  Man  that  sat  upon  the  cloud  open  the  book, 
and  bid  the  world  draw  near.  Yet  there  was,  by  reason  of  a 
fierce  flame  which  issued  out  and  came  before  him,  a  conve- 
nient distance  betwixt  him  and  them,  as  betwixt  the  judge  and 
the  prisoners  at  the  bar.  (Mai.  iii.  2,  3;  Dan.  vii.  9,  10.)  I 
heard  it  also  proclaimed  to  them  that  attended  on  the  Man 
that  sat  on  the  cloud,  '  Gather  together  the  tares,  the  chaff, 
and  stubble,  and  cast  them  into  the  burning  lake.  (Matt.  iii. 
12;  xiii.  30;  Mai.  iv.  1.)  And  with  that,  the  bottomless  pit 
opened,  just  whereabout  I  stood ;  out  of  the  mouth  of  which 
there  came,  in  abundant  manner,  smoke  and  coals  of  fire, 
with  hideous  noises.  It  was  also  said  to  the  same  persons, 
*  Gather  my  wheat  into  the  garner.'  (Luke  iii.  17.)  And 
wdth  that  I  saw  many  catched  up  and  carried  away  into  the 
clouds,  but  I  was  left  behind.  (1  Thess.  iv.  16,17.)  I  also 
sought  to  hide  myself,  but  I  could  not ;  for  the  Man  that  sat 
upon  the  cloud  still  kept  his  eye  upon  me:  my  sins  also  came 
'into  my  mind;  and  my  conscience  did  accuse  me  on  every 
side.    (Rom.  ii.  14,  15.)    Upon  this  I  awaked  from  my  sleep." 

Chr.  But  what  was  it  that  made  you  so  afraid  of  this 
sight  ? 

Man.  Why,  I  thought  that  the  day  of  judgment  was  come^ 
and  that  I  was  not  ready  for  it ;  but  this  frightened  me  most, 
*  Driven  by  the  wind. 


CHRISTIAN   GOES  ON  HIS  WAY.  39 

that  the  angels  gathered  np  several,  and  left  me  behind ;  also 
the  ])it  ©f  hell  opened  her  mouth  just  wliere  I  stood  :  my  con- 
science, too,  afflicted  me;  and,  as  I  thought,  the  Judge  had 
always  his  eye  upon  me,  showing  indignation  in  his  counte- 
nance. • 

Then  said  the  Interpreter  to  Christian,  *'Hast  thou  con- 
sidered all  these  things  ?  " 

Chr.  Yes,  and  they  put  me  in  hope  and  fear. 

Inter.  Well,  keep  all  things  so  in  thy  mind,  that  they  may 
be  as  a  goad  in  thy  sides,  to  prick  thee  forward  in  the  way 
thou  must  go. 

Then  Christian  began  to  gird  up  his  loins,  and  to  address 
himself  to  his  journey.  Then  said  the  Interpreter,  ''The 
Comforter  be  always  with  thee,  good  Christian,  to  guide  thee 
in  the  way  that  leads  to  the  City." 

So  Christian  went  on  his  way,  saying — 

*'  Here  I  have  seen  things  rare  and  profitable  ; 
Things  pleasant,  dreaOfiil,  things  to  make  me  stable 
In  what  I  have  began  to  take  in  liand  ; 
Then  let  me  think  on  them,  and  understand 
Wherefore  they  showed  me  were,  and  let  me  be 
Thankful,  O  good  Interpreter,  to  thee." 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that-th3  highway  up  which  Chris- 
tian was  to  go  was  fenced  on  either  side  with  a  wall,  and  that 
wall  was  called  salvation.  (Isa.  xxvi.  1.)  Up  this  way, 
therefore,  did  burdened  Christian  ruu,  but  not  without  great 
difficulty,  because  of  the  load  on  his  bacK 

He  ran  on  thus  till  he  came  at  a  place  somewhat  ascending;, 
and  upon  that  place  stood  a  cross,  and  a  little  below,  in  thel 
bottom,  a  sepulchre.  So  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  just  a^ 
Christian  came  up  with  the  cross,  his  burden  loosed  from  off 
his  shoulders,  and  fell  from  off  his  back,  and  began  to  tumble 
and  so  continued  to  do,  till  it  came  to  the  mouth  of  thesejjui#»  ^  ,  .- 
chre,  where  it  fell  in,  and  I  saw  it  no  more.      _^..****''*'''***''^|/p'^*^ 

Then  was  Christian  glad  and  lightsome,  and  said  witn  a 


40  CHRISTIAN   LOSES   HIS   BURDEN. 

merry  heart,  ^'  He  hath  given  me  rest  by  his  sorrow,  and  life 
by  his  death."  Then  he  stood  still  awhile  to  look  and  won- 
der; for  it  was  very  surprising  to  him  that  the  sight  of  the 
cross  should  thus  ease  him  of  his  burden  He  looked  there- 
fore, and  looked  again,  even  till  the  springs  that  were  in  his 
head  sent  the  waters  down  his  cheeks.  (Zech.  xii.  10.)  Now 
as  he  stood  looking  and  weeping,  behold  three  Shining  Ones 
came  to  him  and  saluted  him  with  ^' Peace  be  to  thee."  So 
the  first  said  to  him,  ^'  Thy  sins  be  forgiven  thee  "  (Mark  ii  5) ; 
the  second  stripped  him  of  his  rags,  and  clothed  him  "with 
change  of  raiment "  (Zech.  iii.  4.) ;  the  third  also  set  a  mark 
in  his  forehead,  and  gave  him  a  roll  with  a  seal  Upon  it,  which 
he  bade  him  look  on  as  he  ran,  and  that  he  should  give  it  in 
at  the  Celestial  Gate.  (Eph.  i.  13.)  So  they  went  their  way. 
Then  Christian  gave  three  leaps  for  joy,  and  went  on,  sing- 
ing: 

*'  Thus  far  I  did  come  laden  with  my  sin ; 
Nor  could  ought  ease  the  grief  that  I  was  in 
Till  I  came  hither.     What  a  place  is  this  ! 
Must  here  be  the  be^innine:  of  my  bliss  ? 
Must  here  the  burden  fall  from  off  my  ba.ck  ? 
Must  here  the  strino^s  that  bound  it  to  me  crack  ? 
Bless'd  cross  !  bless'd  sepulchre  !  l)less'd  rather  be 
The  man  that  there  w^as  put  to  shame  me  ! " 

I  saw  then  in  my  dream,  that  he  went  on  thus,  even  until  he 
came  at  a  bottom,  where  he  saw,  a  little  out  of  the  way,  three 
men  fast  asleep,  witii  fetters  upon  their  heels.  The  name  cf  the 
one  was  Simple,  another  Sloth,  and  the  third  Presumption. 

Christian  then  seeing  them  lie  in  this  case  went  to  them,  if 
peradventure  he  might  awake  them,  and  cried,  "You  are 
like  them  that  sleep  on  the  top  of  a  mast,  for  the  Dead  Sea  is 
under  you,  a  gulf  that  hath  no  bottom.  (Pro v.  xxiii.  34.) 
Awake,  therefore,  and  come  away,  be  willing  also,  and  I  will 
help  you  off  with  your  irons."  He  also  toldthem,  "  K  he  that 
'  goeth  about  like  a  roaring  lion  '  comes  by,  you  will  certainly 
become  a  prey  to  his  teeth."     (1  Pet.  v.  8.)     With  that  thpy 


CLIMBINa   UP   SOME   OTHER  WAY.  41 

looked  upon  him,  and  began  to  reply  in  this  sort:  Simple 
said,  "  I  see  no  danger ;  "  Sloth  said,  ''Yet  a  little  more  sleep ;" 
and  Presumption  said,  ' '  Every  fat  *  must  stand  upon  its  own 
bottom ;  what  is  the  answer  else  that  I  should  give  thee  ?  " 
And  so  they  lay  down  to  sleep  again,  and  Christian  went  on 
his  way. 

Yet  was  he  troubled  to  think  that  men  in  that  danger  should 
80  little  esteem  the  kindness  of  him  that  so  freely  offered  to 
help  them,  both  by  awakening  of  them,  counselling  of  them, 
and  proffering  to  help  them  off  with  their  irons.  And  as  he 
was  troubled  thereabout,  he  espied  two  men  come  tumbling 
over  the  wall,  on  the  left  hand  of  the  narrow  way;  and  they 
made  up  apace  to  him.  The  name  of  the  one  was  Formalist, 
and  the  name  of  the  other  Hypocrisy.  So,  as  I  said,  they 
drew  up  unto  him,  who  thus  entered  with  them  into  dis- 
course : 

Chr.  Gentlemen,  whence  came  you,  and  wliitlier  go  you  ? 

Form,  and  Hyp.  We  were  born  in  the  land  of  Vain-glory, 
and  are  going  for  praise  to  Mount  Sion. 

Chr.  Why  came  you  not  in  at  the  gate  which  standeth  at 
the  beginning  of  the  way  ?  Know  you  not  that  it  is  written 
that  he  that  cometh  not  in  by  the  door,  "but  climbeth  up 
some  other  way,  the  'same  is  a  thief  and  a  robber  "  ?     (John 

X.  1.) 

They  said  that  "to  go  to  the  gate  for  entrance  was,  by  all 
their  countrymen,  counted  too  far  about;  and  that  therefore 
their  usual  way  was  to  make  a  short  cut  of  it,  and  to  climb 
over  the  wall  as  they  had  done." 

Chr.  But  will  it  not  be  counted  a  trespass  against  the  Lord 
of  the  city  whither  we  are  bound  thus  to  violate  his  revealed 
will  ? 

They  told  him  that  "as  for  that  he  needed  not  to  trouble 
his  head  thereab')ut;  for  what  they  did  they  had  custom  for, 
and  could  produce,  if  need  were,  testimony  that  would  witness 

it  for  more  than  a  thousand  years." 

♦Vat  or  tub. 


42  SELF-bECEPTION. 

"  But,"  said  Christian,  "will  your  practice  stand  a  trial  at 
law  ? " 

They  told  him  that  *' custom,  it  being  of  so  long  a  stand- 
ing as  above  a  thousand  years,  would  doubtless  now  be  ad- 
mitted as  a  thing  legal  by  any  impartial  judge;  and,  besides," 
said  they,  "so  be  we  get  into  the  way,  what's  matter  which 
way  we  get  in  ?  if  we  are  in,  we  are  in;  thou  art  but  in  the 
way,  who,  as  we  perceive,  came  in  at  the  gate ;  and  we  arc 
also  in  the  way,  that  came  tumbling  over  the  wall ;  wherein 
now  is  thy  condition  better  than  ours  ? " 

Cnii.  I  walk  by  the  rule  of  my  Master ;  you  walk  by  the 
rude  working  of  your  fancies.  You  are  counted  thieves  al- 
ready, by  the  Lord  of  the  way ;  therefore,  I  doubt  you  will 
not  be  found  true  men  at  the  end  of  the  way.  You  come  in 
by  yourselves,  without  his  direction,  and  shall  go  out  by  your- 
Bclves,  without  his  mercy. 

To  this  they  made  him  but  little  answer;  only  they  bid  him 
look  to  himself.  Then  I  saw  that  they  went  on  every  man  in 
his  way,  without  much  conference  one  with  another;  save 
that  these  two  men  told  Christian  that,  as  to  laws  and  ordi- 
nances, they  doubted  not  but  they  should  as  conscientiously 
do  them  as  he;  therefore,  said  they,  "We  see  not  wherein 
thou  differest  from  us  but  by  the  coat  tliat  is  on  thy  back, 
which  was,  as  we  trow,*  given  thee  by  some  of  thy  neigh- 
bours, to  hide  the  shame  of  thy  nakedness. 

Chr.  By  laws  and  ordinances  you  will  not  be  saved,  since 
fyou  came  not  in  by  the  door.  (Gal.  ii.  16.)  And  as  for  this 
coat  that  is  on  my  back,  it  was  given  me  by  the  Lord  of  the 
place  whither  I  go;  and  that,  as  you  say,  to  cover  my  naked- 
ness with.  And  I  take  it  as  a  token  of  his  kindness  to  me ; 
for  I  had  nothing  but  rags  before.  And  besides,  thus  I  com- 
fort myself  as  I  go :  Surely,  think  I,  when  I  come  to  the  gate 
of  the  city,  the  Lord  thereof  will  know  me  for  good,  since  I 
iiave  his  coat  on  my  back — a  coat  that  he  gave  me  freely  in 
*  As  we  believe. 


A  REFRESHING   SPRING.  43 

tne  day  that  he  stripped  me  of  my  rags.  I  have,  moreover, 
a  mark  in  my  forehead,  of  which,  perhaps,  you  have  taken  no 
notice,  which  one  of  my  Lord's  most  intimate  associates  fixed 
there  in  the  day  that  my  burden  fell  off  my  shoulders.  I  will 
tell  you,  moreover,  that  Iliad  then  given  me  a  roll,  sealed,  to 
comfort  me  by  reading  as  I  go  on  the  way;  I  was  also  bid  to 
give  it  in  at  the  Celestial  Gate,  in  token  of  my  certain  going 
in  after  it;  all  which  things  I  doubt  you  want,  and  want  them 
bczause  you  came  not  in  at  the  gate. 

To  these  things  they  gave  him  no  answer;  only  they  looked 
upon  each  other  and  laughed.  Then  I  saw  that  they  went  on 
all,  save  that  Christian  kept  before,  who  had  no  more  talk 
but  with  himself,  and  that  sometimes  sighingly,  and  some- 
times comfortably ;  also  he  would  be  often  reading  in  the  roll  ' 
that  one  of  the  Shining  Ones  gave  him,  by  which  he  was  re- 
freghed. 

I  l)eheld  then  that  they  all  went  on  till  they  came  to  the 
foot  of  the  Hill  DithcuUy;  at  the  bottom  of  which  was  a 
spring.  There  were  also  in  the  same  place  two  other  ways 
besides  that  which  came  straight  from  the  gate  ;  one  turned 
to  the  left  hand,  and  the  other  to  the  right,  at  the  bottom  of 
the  hill;  but  the  narrow  way  lay  right  up  the  hill  (and  the 
name  of  the  goitig  up  the  side  of  the  hill  is  called  DifHculty). 
Christian  now  went  to  the  spring,  and  drank  thereof  to  re- 
fresh himself  (Isa.  xlix.  10),  and  then  began  to  go  up  the  hillj 
saying — 

'  The  hill,  though  high,  I  covet  to  ascend. 
The  difficulty  will  not  me  olfend  ; 
For  I  perceive  the  way  to  life  lies  here. 
Come,  pluck  up  heart,  let's  neither  faint  nor  fear; 
Better,  though  difficult,  the  right  way  to  go, 
Than  wrong,  though  easy,  where  the  end  is  woe." 

vThe  other  two  also  came  to  the  foot  of  the  hill.  But  when 
they  saw  that  the  hill  was  steep  and  high,  and  that  there  were 
two  other  ways  to  go ;  and  supposing  also  that  these  two  waya 


44  TIMOROUS  AND   MISTRUST. 

might  meet  again,  with  that  up  which  Christian  went,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  hill;  therefore  they  were  resolved  to  go  in 
those  ways.  Now  the  name  of  one  of  those  ways  was  Danger, 
and  the  name  of  the  other  Destruction.  So  the  one  took  the  way 
which  is  called  Danger,  which  led  him  into  a  great  wood ;  and 
•the  other  took  directly  up  the  way  to  Destruction,  which  led 
Jhim  into  a  wide  field  full  of  dark  mountains,  wdiere  he  stum- 
bled and  fell,  and  rose  no  more. 

I  looked  then  after  Christian,  to  see  him  go  up  the  hill, 
where  I  perceived  he  fell  from  running  to  going,  and  from 
going  to  clambering  upon  his  hands  and  his  knees,  because  of 
the  steepness  of  the  place.  Now  about  the  midway  to  the  top 
of  the  hill  was  a  pleasant  arbour,  made  by  the  Lord  of  the 
hill  for  the  refreshing  of  weary  travellers.  Thither  therefore 
Christian  got,  where  also  he  sat  down  to  rest  him.  Then  he 
pulled  his  roll  out  of  his  bosom,  and  read  therein  to  his  com- 
fort; he  also  now  began  afresh  to  take  a  review  of  the  coat 
or  garment  that  was  given  him  as  he  stood  by  the  cross.  Thus 
pleasing  himself  awhile,  he  at  last  fell  into  a  slumber,  and 
thence  into  a  fast  sleep,  which  detained  him  in  that  place  un- 
til it  was  almost  night ;  and  in  his  sleep  his  roll  fell  out  of  his 
hand.  Now,  as  he  was  sleeping/  there  came  one  to  him,  and 
awaked  him,  saying,  ''  Go  to  the  ant,  thou  sluggard ;  consider 
her  ways,  and  be  wise."  (Prov.  vi.  6.)  And  with  that  Chris- 
tian suddenly  started  up,  and  sped  him  on  his  way,  and  went 
apace  till  he  came  to  the  top  of  the  hill. 

Now  when  he  was  got  up  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  there  came 
two  men  running  to  meet  him  amain ;  the  name  of  the  one 
was  Timorous,  and  the  name  of  the  other  Mistrust ;  to  whom 
Christian  said,  "  Sirs,  what's  the  matter  ?  You  run  the  wrong 
way."  Timorous  answered  that  '*they  were  going  to  the 
City  of  Zion,  and  had  got  up  that  difficult  place;  but,"  said 
he,  ''the  further  we  go,  the  more  danger  we  meet  with; 
/herefore  we  turned,  and  are  going  back  again." 

"Yes," said  Mistruist,  "for  just   before  us  lie  a  couple  oi 


THE   LOST   ROLL.  45 

lions  in  the  way,  whether  sleeping  or  waking  we  know  not^ 
and  we  could  not  think,  if  we  came  within  reach,  but  they 
would  presently  pull  us  in  pieces." 

Then  said  Christian,  ''You  make  me  afraid,  but  whither 
shall  I  fly  to  be  safe  ?  If  I  go  back  to  mine  own  country,  that 
is  prepared  for  fire  and  brimstone,  and  I  shall  certainly  per* 
ish  there.  If  I  can  get  totlie  Celestial  City,  I  am  sure  to  be 
in  safety  there.  I  must  venture.  To  go  back  is  nothing  but 
death ;  to  go  forward  ia  fear  of  death,  and  life  everlasting  be- 
yond it.  I  will  yet  go  forward."  So  Mistrust  and  Timorous 
ran  down  the  hill,  and  Christian  went  on  his  way.  But, 
thiuking  again  of  what  he  had  heard  from  the  men,  he  felt  in 
his  bosom  for  his  roll,  that  lie  might  read  therein  and  be  com- 
forted ;  but  he  felt,  and  found  it  not.  Then  was  Christian  in 
great  distress,  and  knew  not  what  to  do ;  for  he  wanted  that 
which  used  to  relieve  him,  and  that  which  should  have^een 
his  pass  into  the  Celestial  City.  Here  therefore  he  began  to 
be  much  perplexed,  and  knew  not  what  to  do.  At  last  he  be- 
tliought  himself  that  he  had  slept  in  the  arbour  that  is  on  the 
side  of  the  hill;  and,  falling  down  upon  his  knees,  he  asked 
God's  forgiveness  for  that  foolish  act,  and  then  went  back  to 
look  for  his  roll.  But  all  the  way  he  went  back,  who  can 
sufficiently  set  forth  the  sorrow  of  Christian's  heart  !  Some- 
times he  sighed,  sometimes  he  wept,  and  oftentimes  he 
chid  himself  for  being  so  foolish  to  fair  asleep  in  that  place, 
which  was  erected  only  for  a  little  refreshment  for  his  weari- 
ness. Thus,  therefore,  he  went  back,  carefully  looking  on 
this  side  and  on  that,  all  the  way  as  he  went,  if  happily  lie 
might  find  his  roll,  that  had  been  his  comfort  so  many  times  in 
his  journey.  He  went  thus  till  he  came  again  within  sight  of 
the  arbour  where  he  sat  and  slept;  but  that  sight  renewed  his 
sorrow  the  more,  by  bringing  again,  even  afresh,  his  evil  of 
sleeping  into  his  mind.  (Rev.  ii.5;  l.Thess.  v.  7,  8.)  Thus, 
therefore,  he  now  went  on  bewailing  his  sinful  sleep,  saying,  "  0 
wretched  man  that  I  am,  that  I  should  sleep  in  tho  day-time 


46  WALKING   IN   DARKNESS. 

that  I  should  sleep  in  the  midst  of  difficulty !  that  I  should  so 
indulge  the  flesh  as  to  use  that  rest  for  ease  to  my  flesh  which 
the  Lord  of  the  hill  hath  erected  only  for  the  relief  of  the 
spirits  of  pilgrims ! 

"  How  many  steps  have  I  took  in  vain !  Thus  it  happened 
to  Israel,  for  their  sin ;  they  were  sent  back  again  by  the  way 
of  the  Red  Sea;  and  I  am  made  to  tread  those  steps  with  sor- 
row which  I  might  have. trod  with  delight,  had  it  not  been  for 
this  sinful  sleep.  How  far  might  I  have  been  on  my  way  by 
this  time!  I  am  made  to  tread  those  steps  thrice  over, which 
I  needed  not  to  have  trod  but  once ;  yea,  now  also  I  am  like 
to  be  benighted,  for  the  day  is  almost  spent.  Oh,  that  I  had  not 
slept!" 

Now  by  this  time  he  was  come  to  the  arbour  again,  wlicre 
for  awhile  he  sat  down  and  wept;  but  at  last  (as  Christian 
would  have  it),  looking  sorrowfully  down  under  the  settle, 
there  he  espied  his  roll ;  the  which  he,  with  trembling  haste, 
catched  up,  and  put  it  into  his  bosom.  But  who  can  tell  how 
joyful  this  man  was  when  he  had  gotten  his  roll  again!  for 
this  roll  was  the  assurance  of  his  life  and  acceptance  at  the 
desired  haven.  Therefore  he  laid  it  up  in  his  bosom,  gave 
thanks  to  God  for  directing  his  eye  to  the  place  where  it  lay, 
and  with  joy  and  tears  betook  himself  again  to  his  journey. 
But,  oh,  how  nimbly  now  did  he  go  up  the  rest  of  the  hill ! 
Yet,  before  he  got  up,  the  sun  went  down  upon  Christian; 
and  this  made  him  again  recall  the  vanity  of  his  sleeping  to 
his  remembrance ;  and  thus  he  again  began  to  condole  with 
himself:  "  O  thou  sinful  sleep:  how  for  thy  sake  am  I  like  to 
be  benighted  in  my  Journey  !  I  must  walk  without  the  sun; 
darkness  must  cover  the  path  of  my  feet;  and  I  must  hear  the 
noise  of  the  doleful  creatures,  because  of  my  sinful  sleep." 
(1  Thess.  V.  6,  7.)  Now  also  he  remembered  the  story  that 
Mistrust  and  Timorous  told  him  of,  how  they  were  frightened 
with  the  sight  of  the  lions.  Then  said  Christian  to  himself 
again,  *'  These  beast^  rani^e  in  the  night  for  their  prey ;  and  if 


THE  PORTER  AT  THE  LODGE.         47 

they  should  meet  with  me  in  the  dark,  how  should  I  shift 
them  ?  How  should  I  escape  being  by  them  torn  in  pieces  ?  '* 
Thus  he  went  on  his  way.  But  while  he  was  thus  bewailing 
his  unhappy  miscarriage,  he  lift  up  his  eyes,  and  behold  there 
was  a  very  stately  palace  before  him,  the  name  of  which  was 
Beautiful;  and  it  stood  just  by  the  highway  side. 

So  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  he  made  haste  and  went  forward, 
that  if  possible  he  might  get  lodging  there.  Now  before  he 
had  gone  far,*  he  entered  into  a  very  narrow  passage,  which 
was  about  a  furlong  off  the  porter's  lodge  ;  and,  looking  very 
narrowly  before  him  as  he  went,  he  espied  two  lions  in  the 
way.  Now,  thought  he,  I  see  the  dangers  that  Mistrust  and 
Timorous  were  driven  back  hy.  (The  lions  were  chained,  but 
he  saw  not  the  chains.)  Then  he  was  afraid,  and  thought 
also  himself  to  go  back  after  them,  for  he  thought  nothing 
but  death  was  before  him.  But  the  porter  at  the  lodge,  whose 
name  is  Watchful,  perceiving  that  Christian  made  a  halt  as  if 
he  would  go  back,  cried  unto  him,  saying,  "Is  thy  strength 
so  small  ?  (Mark  xiii.  34;  xiv.  37.)  Fear  not  the  lions,  for 
they  are  chained,  and  are  placed  there  for  trial  of  faith  where 
it  is,  and  for  discovery  of  those  that  had  none.  Keep  in  the 
midst  of  the  patl^  and  no  hurt  shall  come  unto  thee." 

Then  I  saw  that  he  went  on,  trembling  for  fear  of  the  lions; 
but  taking  good  heed  to  the  directions  of  the  porter,  he  heard 
them  roar,  but  they  did  him  no  harm.  Then  he  clapped  his 
hands,  and  went  on  till  he  came  and  stood  before  the  gate 
where  the  porter  was.  Then  said  Christian  to  the  porter, 
"  Sir,  what  house  is  this  ?  And  may  I  lodge  here  to-night  ?  " 
The  porter  answered,  "This  house  was  built  by  the  Lord  of 
the  hjM,  and  he  built  it  for  the  relief  and  security  of.  pil- 
grims." The  porter  also  asked  whence  he  was,  and  whither 
he  was  going. 

Cim.  I  am  come  from  the  City  of  Destruction,  and  am  going 
to  Mount  Zion ;  but  because  the  sun  is  now  set,  I  desire,  if  I 
may,  to  lodge  here  to-night. 


48  CHRISTIAN  AND   DISCRETION. 

PoR.  What  is  your  name  ? 

Cur.  My  name  is  now  Christian,  but  my  name  at  tlie  first 
was  Graceless;  I  came  of  the  racQ  of  Japheth,  whom  God  will 
persuade  to  dwell  in  the  tents  of  Shem.     (Gen.  ix.  27.) 

PoR.  But  how  doth  it  happen  you  came  so  late  ?  The  sun 
is  set. 

Chr.  I  had  been  here  sooner,  but  that,  *'  wretched  man  that 
I  am  !  "  I  slept  in  the  arbour  that  stands  on  the  hill-side ;  nay, 
I  had,  notwithstanding  that,  been  here  much  sooner,  but  that, 
in  my  sleep,  I  lost  my  evideuce,  and  came  without  it  to  the 
brow  of  the  hill;  and  then  feeling  for  it,  and  finding  it  not, 
I  was  forced  with  sorrow  of  heart  to  go  back  to  the  place 
wliere  I  slept  my  sleep,  where  I  found  it;  and  now  I  am  come. 

PoR.  Well,  I  will  call  out  one  of  the  virgins  of  this  place, 
who  will,  if  she  likes  your  talk,  bring  you  in  to  the  rest  of 
the  family,  according  to  the  rules  of  the  house. 

So  Watchful,  the  porter,  rang  a  bell,  at  the  sound  of  which 
came  out  at  the  door  of  the  house  a  grave  and  beautiful  dam- 
sel, named  Discretion,  and  asked  why  she  was  called.  The 
porter  answered,  "This  man  is  on  a  journey  from  the  City  of 
Destruction  to  Mount  Zion,  but,  being  weary  and  benighted, 
he  asked  me  if  he  might  lodge  here  to-night;  so  I  told  him  I 
would  call  for  thee,  who,  after  discourse  liad  with  him, 
mayest  do  as  seemeth  thee  good,  even  according  to  the  law 
of  the  house." 

Then  she  asked  him  whence  he  was  come  and  whither  he  was 
going;  and  he  told  her.  She  asked  him  also  how  he  got  into 
the  way;  and  he  told  her.  Then  she  asked  him  what  he  had 
seen  and  met  with  in  the  way ;  and  he  told  her.  And  last  she 
asked  his  name;  so  he  said,  "It  is  Christian,  and  I>l)ave 
so  much  the  more  a  desire  to  lodge  here  to-night  because,  by, 
what  I  perceive,  this  place  was  built  by  the  Lord  of  the  hill, 
for  the  relief  and  security  of  pilgrims."  So"  she  smiled,  but 
the  water  stood  in  her  eyes ;  and  after  a  little  pause,  she  said, 
"I  will  call  forth  two  or  three  more  of  the  family."     So  she 


CHRISTIAN'S  EXPERIENCE.  49 

ran  to  the  door,  and  called  out  Prudence,  Piety,  and  Charity, 
who,  after  a  little  more  discourse  with  him,  had  him  into  the 
family;  and  many  of  them,  meeting  him  at  the  threshold  of 
the  house,  said,  "Come  in,  thou  blessed  of  the  Lord;  this 
house  was  built  by  the  Lord  of  the  hill,  on  purpose  to  enter- 
tain such  pilgrims  in."  Then  he  bowed  his  head,  and  follow- 
ed them  into  the  house.  So  when  he  was  come  in  and  sat 
down,  they  gave  him  something  to  drink,  and  consented  to- 
gether that,  until  supper  was  ready,  some  of  them  should 
have  some  particular  discourse  with  Christian,  for  the  best 
improvement  of  time;  and  they  appointed  Piety,  and  Prud- 
ence, and  Charity,  to  discourse  with  hitn;  and  thus  they  be- 
gan:— 

Piety.  Come,  good  Christian,  since  we  have  been  so  loving 
to  you,  to  receive  you  in  our  house  this  night,  let  us,  if  per- 
haps we  may  better  ourselves  thereby,  talk  with  you  of  all 
things  that  have  happened  to  you  in  your  pilgrimage. 

Chr.  With  a  very  good  will,  and  I  am  glad  that  you  are  so 
well  disposed. 

Piety.  What  moved  you  at  first  to  betake  yourself  to  a  pil- 
grim's life  ? 

Cur.  I  was  driven  out  of  my  native  country  by  a  dreadful 
sound  that  was  in  mine  ears,  to  wit,  that  unavoidable  destruc- 
tion did  attend  me,  if  I  abode  in  that  place  where  I  was. 

Piety.  But  how  did  it  happen  that  you  came  out  of  your 
country  this  way  ? 

Chr.  It  was  as  God  would  have  it;  for  when  I  was  under 
the  fears  of  destruction,  I  did  not  know  whither  to  go ;  but 
by  chance  there  came  a  man,  even  to  uie,  as  I  was  trembling 
and  weeping,  whose  name  is  Evangelist,  and  he  directed  me 
to  the  wicket-gate,  which  else  T  should  never  have  found,  and 
so  set  me  into  the  way  that  hatli  led  me  directly  to  this  house. 

Piety.  But  did  you  not  come  by  the  house  of  the  Interpreter? 

Chr.  Yes,  and  did  see  such  things  there,  the  remembrance 
of  which  will  stick  by  me  as  long  as  I  live ;  especially  three 


50  CHRISTIAN'S  EXPERIENCE. 

things  :  to  wit,  how  Christ,  in  despite  of  Satan,  maintains  his 
work  of  grace  in  the  heart;  how  the  man  had  sinned  himselt 
quite  out  of  hopes  of  God's  mercy;  and  also  the  dream  of  hinji 
that  thought  in  his  sleep  the  day  of'  judgment  was  come. 

Piety.  Why !  did  you  hear  him  tell  his  dream  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  and  a  dreadful  one  it  was.  I  thought  it  made 
my  heart  ache  as  he  was  telling  of  it;  but  yet  I  am  glad  1 
heard  it. 

Piety.  Was  that  all  that  you  saw  at  the  house  of  the  Inter- 
preter ? 

Chr.  No  ;  he  took  me  and  had  me  where  he  showed  me  a 
stately  palace,  and  how  the  people  were  clad  in  gold  that  were 
in  it;  and  how  there  came  a  venturous  man  and  cut  his 
way  through  the  armed  men  that  stood  in.  the  door  to  keep 
him  out :  and  how  he  was  bid  to  come  in,  and  win  eternal 
glory.  Methought  those  things  did  ravish  my  heart;  I  would 
have  stayed  at  that  man's  house  a  twelve-month,  but  that  I 
knew  I  had  further  to  go. 

Piety.  And  what  saw  you  else  on  the  way  ? 

Chr.  Saw !  why,  I  went  but  a  little  further,  and  I  saw  One, 
as  I  thought,  in  my  mind,  hang  bleeding  upon  the  tree ;  and 
the  very  sight  of  him  made  my  burden  fall  off  my  back  (for  I 
groaned  under  a  very  heavy  burden,  but  then  it  fell  down 
from  off  me).  It  was  a  strange  thing  to  me,  for  I  never  saw 
such  a  thing  before:  yea,  and  while  I  stood  looking  up  (for 
then  I  could  not  forbear  looking),  three  Shining  Ones  came 
to  me.  One  of  them  testified  that  my  sins  were  forgiven  me; 
another  stripped  me  of  my  rags,  and  gave  me  this  broidered 
coat  which  you  see ;  and  the  third  set  the  mark  which  you  see 
in  my  forehead,  aud  gave  me  this  sealed  roll. 

And  with  that  he  plucked  it  out  of  his  bosom. 

Piety.  But  you  saw  more  than  this,  did  you  not  ? 

Chr.  The  things  that  I  have  told  you  were  the  best;  yet 
some  other  matters  I  saw,  as,  namely:  I  saw  three  men. 
Simple,  Sloth,  and  Presumption,  lie  asleep  a  little  out  of  the  waj; 


V 
DESIRES   AFTER   HOLINESS.  51 

lis  I  came,  with  irons  upon  their  heels;  but  do  you  think  I 
could  awake  them  ?  I  also  saw  Formalist  and  Hypocrisy  come 
tumblhig  over  the  wall,  to  go,  as  they  pretended,  to  Zion, 
but  they  were  quickly  lost,  even  as  I  myself  did  tell  them ; 
but  they  would  not  believe.  But,  above  all,  I  found  it  hard 
work  to  get  up  this  hill,  and  as  hard  to  come  by  the  lions' 
mouths ;  and  truly,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  good  man,  the 
porter  that  stands  at  the  gate,  I  do  not  know  but  that  after 
all  I  might  have  gone  back  again :  but  now,  I  thank  God  I 
am  here,  and  T  thank  you  for  receiving  of  me. 

Then  Prudence  thought  good  to  ask  him  a  few  questions, 
and  desired  his  answer  to  them. 

Prud.  Did  you  not  think  sometimes  of  the  country  from 
whence  you  came  ? 

Cira.  Yes.  but  with  much  shame  and  detestation:  "truly, 
if  I  had  been  mindful  of  that  country  from  whence  I  oame 
out,  I  might  have  had  opportunity  to  have  returned ;  but  I 
now  desire  a  better  country,  that  is,  an  heavenly."  (Heb.  xi. 
15,  16.) 

Prud.  Do  you  not  yet  bear  away  with  you  some  of  tlie 
things  that  then  you  were  conversant  withal  ? 

CiiR .  Yes,  but  greatly  against  my  will ;  especially  my  in- 
ward and  carnal  cogitations,  with  which  all  my  countrymen, 
as  well  as  myself,  were  delighted ;  but  now  all  those  things 
are  my  grief;  and  might  I  but  choose  mine  own  things,  I 
would  choose  never  to  think  of  those  things  more ;  but  when 
I  would  be  doing  of  that  which  is  best,  that  which  is  worst  is 
with  me.     (Rom.  vii.  15-25.) 

Prud.  Do  you  not  find  sometimes  as  if  those  things  were 
vanquished,  which  at  other  times  are  your  perplexity  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  but  that  is  but  seldom ;  but  they  are  to  me  golden 
hours,  in  which  such  things  happen  to  me. 

Prud.  Can  you  remember  by  what  means  you  find  your  an 
noyances  at  times  as  if  they  were  vanquished  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  when  I  think  what  I  saw  at  the  cross,  that  will 


52  CHRISTIAN'S   LOVE   TO   HIS   FAMILY. 

do  it'  and  when  I  look  upon  my  broidered  coat,  that  will  do 
it;  also  when  I  look  into  the  roll  that  I  carry  in  my  bosom, 
that  will  doit;  and  when  my  thoughts  wax  warm  about 
whither  I  am  going,  that  will  do  it. 

Prud.  And  what  is  it  that  makes  you  so  desirous  to  go  to 
Mount  Zion  ? 

Che.  Why,  there  I  hope  to  see  him  alive  that  did  hang  dead 
on  the  cross ;  and  there  I  hope  to  be  rid  of  all  those  things  that 
to  this  day  are  in  me  an  annoyance  to  me ;  there  they  say  there 
is  no  death;  and  there  I  shall  dwell  with  such  company  as  I 
like  brst.  (Isa.  xxv.  8;  Rev.  xxi.  4.)  For,  to  tell  you  the 
truth,  I  love  him,  because  I  was  by  him  eased  of  my  burden; 
and  I  am  weary  of  my  inward  sickness.  I  would  fain  be 
where  I  shall  die  no  more,  and  with  the  company  that  shall 
continually  cry,  "Holy,  Holy,  Holy!" 

Then  said  Charity  to  Christian,  ''  Have  you  a  family  ?  Are 
you  a  married  man  ? " 

Cnu.  I  have  a  wife  and  four  small  children. 

CiiAK.  And  why  did  you  not  bring  them  along  with  you  ? 

Then  Christian  wept,  and  said,  "Oh,  how  willingly  would 
I  have  done  it!  but  they  were  all  of  them  uttc'rly  averse  to 
my  going  on  pilgrimage." 

CiiAii.  But  you  should  have  talked  to  them,  and  have  en- 
deavoured  to  have  shown  them  the  danger  of  being  Dehind, 

Chr.  So  I  did  ;  and  told  them  also  what  God  had  shown  tc 
me  of  the  destruction  of  our  city;  "  but  I  seemed  to  them  as 
one  that  mocked,"  and  they  believed  me  not.     (Gen.  xix.  14. j 

Char.  And  did  you  pray  to  God  that  he  wou^d  bless  yom 
counsel  to  them  ? 

Cirr.  Yes,  and  that  with  much  affection  :  for  you  must  think 
that  my  wife  and  poor  cliildren  were  very  dear  unto  io  me. 

Char.  But  did  you  tell  them  of  your  own  sorrow  and  fear 
of  destruction  ?  for  I  suppose  that  destruction  was  visible 
enough  to  you. 

Cnii.  YeSy  over,  and  over,  and  over.     They  might  also  see 


,  CHRISTIAN'S  CONDUCT  BEFORE  HIS  FAMILY.       55 

my  fears  in  my  countenance,  in  my  tears,  and  also  in  my 
trembling  under  the  apprehension  of  the  judgment  that  did 
hang  over  our  heads;  but  all  was  not  sufficient  to  prevail  with 
them  to  come  with  me. 

Char.  But  what  could  they  say  for  themselves,  why  they 
came  not  ? 

Chr.  Why,  my  wife  was  afraid  of  losing  this  world,  and 
my  children  were  given  to  the  foolish  delights  of  youth:  so, 
what  by  one  thing  and  what  by  another,  they  left  me  to  wan- 
der in  this  manner  alone. 

Char.  But  did  you  not  with  your  vain  life  damp  all  tliat 
you  by  words  used  by  way  of  persuasion  to  bring  them  away 
with  yon  ? 

CiiR.  Indeed,  I  cannot  commend  my  life;  for  I  am  con- 
scious to  myself  of  many  failings  therein  :\  I  know  also,  that  a 
man  by  his  conversation  may  soon  overthrow  what  by  argu- 
ment or  persuasion  he  doth  labour  to  fasten  upon  others  for 
their  good.  Yet,  this  I  can  say,  I  was  very  wary  of  giving 
them  occasion,  by  any  unseemly  action,  to  make  them  averse 
to  going  on  pilgrimage.  Yet,  for  this  very  thing  they  would 
tell  me  I  was  too  precise,  and  that  I  denied  myself  of  things 
for  their  sakes,  in  wliich  they  saw  no  evil.  Nay,  I  think  I 
may  say,  that  if  what  they  saw  in  me  did  hinder  them,  it  was 
my  gre-at  tenderness  in  sinning  against  God,  or  of  doing  any 
wrong  to  my  neiglibour. 

CiiAR.  Indeed,  Cain  hated  his  brother,  *' because  his  own 
works  were  evil,  and  his  brother's  righteous  "  (1  John  iii.  12), 
and  if  thy  wife  and  children  have  been  olfended  with  thee 
for  this,  they  thereby  show  themselves  to  be  implacable  to 
good,  and  "thou  hast  delivered  thy  soul  from  their  blood." 
(Ezek.  iii.  19.) 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  thus  they  sat  talking  togeth- 
er untd  supper  was  ready.  So,  when  they  had  made  ready, 
they  sat  down  to  meat.  Now  the  table  was  furnished  "  vvdth 
fat  things,  and  with  wine  that  was  well  refined ; "  and  all 


54  RECORDS   OF  OLD  TIMES. 

their  talk  at  the  table  was  about  the  Lord  of  the  hill;  as, 
namely,  about  what  he  had  done,  and  wherefore  he  did  what 
he  did,  and  why  he  had  builded  that  house :  and  by  what 
they  said  I  perceived  that  he  had  been  a  great  warrior,  and 
had  fought  with  and  slain  "him  that  had  the  power  of  death," 
but  not  without  great  danger  to  himself  which  made  me  love 
him  the  more.     (Heb.  ii.  14,  15.) 

For,  as  they  said,  and  "  as  I  believe,"  said  Christian,  "  he 
did  it  with  the  loss  of  much  blood  ;*but  that  which  put  glory 
of  grace  into  all  he  did  was,  that  he  did  it  out  of  pure  love 
to  his  country."  And  besides,  there  was  some  of  them  of  the 
household  that  said  they  had  been  and  spoke  with  him  since 
he  did  die  on  the  cross;  and  they  have  attested  that  they  had 
it  from  his  own  lips,  that  lie  is  such  a  lover  of  poor  pilgrims, 
that  the  like  is  not  to  be  found  from  the  east  to  the  west. 

They,  moreover,  gave  an  instance  of  what  they  affirmed, 
and  that  was,  he  had  stripped  himself  of  his  glory,  that  he  might 
do  this  for  the  poor;  and  that  they  heard  him  say  and  affirm 
"that  he  would  not  dwell  in  the  mountain  of  Zion  alone." 
They  said,  moreover,  that  "he  had  made  many  pilgrims 
princes,  though  by  nature  they  were  beggars  born,  and  their 
original  had  been  the  dunghill."     (1  Sam.   ii.'8;  Psa.  cxiii. 

7.) 

Thus  they  discoursed  together  till  late  at  night;  and  after 
they  had  committed  themselves  to  their  Lord  for  protection, 
they  betook  themselves  to  rest.  The  pilgrim  they  laid  in  a 
large  upper  chamber,  whose  window  opened  towards  the  sun- 
rising;  the  name  of  the  chamber  was  Peace;  where  he  slept 
till  break  of  day,  and  then  he  awoke  and  sang — 

**  Where  am  I  now?     Is  this  the  love  and  care 
Of  Jesus  for  the  men  that  l)ilgrims  are? 
Thus  to  provide  !  that  I  should  be  forgiven  ! 
And  dwell  already  the  next  door  to  heaven  ! " 

So  in  the  morning  they  all  got  up;  and  after  some  more 


THE  CHRISTIAN  ARMOUR.  55 

discourse,  they  told  him  that  he  should  not  depart  .till  they 
had  shown  him  the  rarities  of  that  place.  And  first  they  had 
him  into  the  study,  where  they  showed  him  records  of  the 
greatest  antiquity;  in  which,  as  I  remember  my  dream,  they 
showed  him  first  the  pedigree  of  the  Lord  of  the  hill,  that  he 
was  the  son  of  the  Ancient  of  Days,  and  came  by  that  eternal 
generation.  Here  also  was  more  fully  recorded  the  acts  tliat 
he  had  done,  and  the  names  of  many  hundreds  that  he  had 
taken  into  his  service ;  an^  how  he  had  placed  them  in  such 
habitations  that  could  neither  by  length  of  days,  nor  decay  of 
nature,  be  dissolved. 

Then  they  read  to  him  some  of  the  worthy  acts  that  some 
of  his  servants  had  done :  as  how  they  had  "subdued  king- 
doms, wrought  righteousness,  obtained  promises,  stopped  the 
mouths  of  lions,  quenched  the  violence  of  fire,  escaped  the 
edge  of  the  sword,  out  of  weakness  were  made  strong,  waxed 
valiant  in  fight,  and  turned  to  flight  the  armies  of  the  aliens." 
(Heb.  xi.  33,  34.) 

Then  they  read  again  in  another  part  of  the  records  of  the 
house,  where  it  was  shown  liow  willing  their  Lord  was  to  re- 
ceive into  his  favour  any,  even  any,  tliough  they  in  time  past 
had  offered  great  affronts  to  his  person  and  proceedings. 
Here  also  were  several  other  histories  of  many  other  famous 
things,  of  all  which  Christian  had  a  view ;  as  of  things  both 
ancient  and  modern ;  together  with  prophecies  and  predic- 
tions of  things  that  have  their  certain  accomplishment,  both 
to  the  dread  and  amazement  of  enemies,  and  the  comfort  and 
solace  of  pilgrims. 

The  next  day. they  took  him  and  had  him  into  the  armoury, 
where  they  sliowed  him  all  manner  of  furniture,  which  their 
Lord  had  provided  for  pilgrims,  as  sword,  shield,  helmet, 
breastplate,  all-prayer,  and  shoes  that  would  not  wear  out. 
And  there  was  here  enough  of  this  to  harness  out  as  many 
men  for  the  service  of  their  Lord  as  there  be  stars  in  the 
heaven  for  multitude. 


bt$  THE   DELECTABLE  MOUNTAINS. 

They  also  showed  him  some  of  the  engines  with  which  some 
of  his  servants  had  done  wonderful  things.  They  showed 
him  Moses'  rod ;  the  hammer  and  nail  with  which  Jael  slew 
Sisera;  th«  pitchers,  trumpets,  and  lamps,  too,  with  which  Gide- 
on put  to  flight  the  armies  of  Midian.  Then  they  showed  him 
also  the  ox's  goad  wherewith  Shamgar  slew  six  hundred  men. 
They  showed  him  also  the  jawbone  with  which  Samson  did 
such  mighty  feats.  They  showed  him,  moreover,  the  sling 
and  stone  with  which  David  slew  Goliath  of  Gatl^ ;  and  the 
sword  also,  with  which  their  Lord  will  kill  the  Man  of  Sin, 
in  the  day  that  he  shall  rise  up  to  the  prey.  They  showed 
him,  besides,  many  excellent  things,  with  which  Christian 
was  much  delighted.  Tliis  done,  they  went  to  their  rest 
again. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  on  the  morrow  he  got  up  to 
go  forwards ;  but  they  desired  him  to  stay  till  the  next  day  also ; 
*'And  then,"  said  they,  "we  will  (if  the  day  be  clear)  show 
you  the  Delectable  Mountains,"  which,  they  said,  would  yet 
further  add  to  his  comfort,  because  they  were  nearer  the  de- 
sired haven  than  the  place  where  at  present  he  was.  So  he 
consented  and  stayed.  "When  the  morning  was  up,  they  had 
him  to  the  top  of  the  house,  and  bid  him  look  south ;  so  he 
did:  and  behold,  at  a  great  distance  he  saw  a  most  pleas- 
ant mountainous  country,  beautified  with  woods,  vineyards, 
fruits  of  all  sorts,  flowers  also,  with  springs  and  fountains, 
very  delectable  to  behold.  (Isa.  xxxiii.  16,  17.)  Then  he 
asked  the  name  of  the  country.  Shey  said  it  was  Immanuel's 
Land;  "And  it  is  as  common,"  said  they,  "as  this  hill  is,  to 
and  for  all  the  pilgrims.  And  when  thou  comest  there,  from 
thence  thou  mayest  see  to  the  gate  of  the  Celestial  City,  as  the 
shepherds  that  live  there  will  make  appear." 

Now  he  bethought  himself  of  setting  forward,  and  they  were 
willing  he  should.  "But  first,"  said  they,  "let  us  go  again 
into  the  armoury."  So  they  did,  and  when  they  came  there, 
they  harnessed  him  from  head   to  foot  with  what  was  proof 


CHRISTIAN  PURSUES  HIS  JOURNEY.  57 

lest  perhaps  he  should  meet  with  assaults  in  the  way.  He  be- 
ing therefore  thus  accoutred  walketh  out  with  his  friends  to 
the  gate,  and  there  he  asked  the  porter  if  he  saw  any  pilgrim 
paes  by.     Then  the  porter  answered,  "  Yes." 

"  Pray  did  you  know  him  ?  "  said  he. 

PoK.  I  asked  him  his  name,  and  he  told  me  it  was  Faith- 
ful. 

''Oh,"  said  Christian,  "I  know  him;  he  is  my  townsman, 
my  near  neighbour;  he  comes  from  the  place  where  I  was 
born.     How  far  do  you  think  he  may  be  before  ?  " 

PoR.  He  is  got  by  this  time  below  the  hill.  . 

"Well,"  said  Christian,  "good  porter,  the  Lord  be  with 
thee,  and  add  to  all  thy  blessings  much  increase,  for  the  kind- 
ness that  thou  hast  showed  to  me." 

Then  he  began  to  go  forward  ;  but  Discretion,  Piety,  Char- 
ity and  Prudence  would  accompany  him  down  to  the  foot  of 
the  hill.  So  they  went  on  together,  reiterating  their  former 
discourses  till  they  came  to  go  down  the  hill.  Then  said 
Christian,  "As  it  was  difficult  coming  up,  so  (so  far  as  I  can 
see)  it  is  dangerous  going  down."  "Yes,"  said  Prudence, 
"so  it  is;  for  it  is  a  hard  matter  for  a  man  to  go  down  into 
the  Valley  of  Humiliation,  as  thou  art  now,  and  to  catch  no 
slip  by  the  way;  therefore,"  said  they,  "  are  we  come  out  to 
accompany  thee  down  the  hill."  So  he  began  to  go  down, 
but  very  warily;  yet  he  caught  a  slip  or  two. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  these  good  companions  (when 
Christian  was  gone  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  hill)  gave  him 
a  loaf  of  bread,  and  a  bottle  of  wine,  and  a  cluster  of  rasins ; 
and  then  he  went  on  his  way. 

But  now  in  this  Valley  of  Humiliation  poor  Christian  was 
hard  put  to  it;  for  he  had  gone  but  a  little  way  before  he 
espied  a  foul  fiend  coming  over  the  field  to  meet  him ;  his 
name  is  ApoUyon.  Then  did  Christian  begin  to  be  afraid,  and 
to  cast  in  his  mind  whether  to  go  back  or  to  stand  his  ground. 
But  he  considered  again  that  he  had  no  armour  for  his  back; 


58  FAIR  PROMISES. 

and  therefore  thought  that  to  turn  the  back  to  Mm  might 
give  him  the  greater  advantage  with  ease  to  pierce  him  with 
his  darts.  Therefore  he  resolverl  to  venture  and  stand  his 
ground ;  for,  thought  he,  had  no  more  in  mine  eye  than  the 
saving  of  my  life,  it  would  be  the  best  way  to-  stand. 

So  he  went  on,  and  Apollyon  met  him.  Now  the  monster 
was  hideous  to  behold ;  he  was  clothed  with  scales,  like  a 
fish  (and  they  are  his  pride),  he  had  wings  like  a  dragon,  feet 
like  a  bear,  and  out  of  his  belly  came  fire  and  smoke,  and  his 
mouth  was  as  the  mouth  of  a  lion.  When  he  was  come  up  to 
Christian,  he  beheld  him  with  a  disdainful  countenance,  and 
thus  began  to  question  with  him : 

''Whence  come  you,  and  whither  are  you  bound  ?" 

Chr.  I  am  come  from  the  City  of  Destruction,  which  is  the 
place  of  all  evil,  and  am  going  to  the  City  of  Zion. 

Apol.  By  this  I  perceive  thou  art  one  of  my  subjects,  for 
all  that  country  is  mine ;  and  I  am  the  prince  and  god  of  it. 
How  is  it  then  that  thou  hast  run  away  from  thy  king  ?  Were 
it  not  that  I  hope  thou  mayest  do  me  more  service,  I  would 
strike  thee  now  at  one  blow  to  the  ground. 

Chr.  I  was  born  indeed  in  your  dominions,  but  your  service 
was  hard,  and  your  wages  such  as  a  man  could  not  live  on, 
''for  the  wages  of  sin  is  death"  (Ilom.  vi.  23);  therefore, 
when  I  was  come  to  years,  I  did  as  other  considerate  pe-rsons 
do,  look  out,  if  perhaps  I  might  mend  myself. 

Apol.  There  is  no  prince  that  will  thus  lightly  lose  his  sub- 
jects, neither  will  I  as  yet  lose  thee.  But  since  thou  corn- 
plainest  of  thy  service  and  wages,  be  content  to  go  back: 
what  our  country  will  afford  I  do  here  promise  to  give  thee. 

Chr.  But  I  iiave  let  myself  to  another,  even  to  the  King 
of  princes,  and  how  can  I  w^ith  fairness  go  back  with  thee  ? 

Apol.  Thou  hast  done  in  this,  according  to  the  proverb, 
*' Changed  a  bad  for  a  worse;"  but  it  is  ordinary  for  those 
that  have-professed  themselves  his  servants,  after  a  while  to 
give  him  the  slip,  and  return  again  to  me.  Do  thou  so  too, 
and  all  shall  be  well. 


ATTEMPTS  TO  DETER  CHRISTIAN.  59 

Cttk.  I  have  given  him  my  faith,  and  sworn  my  allegiance 
to  him;  how  then  can  I  go  back  from  this  and  not  be  hanged 
as  a  traitor? 

Apol.  Thou  didst  the  same  to  me,  and  yet  I  am  willing  to 
pass  by  all,  if  now  thou  wilt  yet  turn  and  go  back. 

Ckr.  What  I  promised  thee  was  m  my  nonage ;  and  besideC; 
[  count  that  the  Prince  under  whose  banner  now  I  stand  is 
able  to  a1)solve  me;  yea,  and  to  pardon  also  what  I  did  as  to 
my  compliance  with  tliee;  and  besides,  O  thou  destroying 
Apollyon  !  to  speak  the  truth,  I  like  his  service,  his  wages, 
liis  government,  his  company  and  country,  better  than  thine; 
and  therefore  leave  off  to  persuade  me  further;  I  am  his  ser- 
vant, and  I  will  follow  him, 

Apol.  Consider  again,  when  thou  art  in  cool  blood,  what 
thou  art  like  to  meet  with  in  the  way  that  thou  goest.  Thou 
knowest  that  for  the  most  part  his  servants  come  to  an  ill  end, 
because  they  are  transgressors  against  me  and  my  ways.  How 
many  of  them  have  been  put  to  shameful  deaths  !  and  besides, 
thou  countest  his  service  better  than  mine,  whereas  he  never 
came  yet  from  the  place  where  he  is  to  deliver  any  that  served 
him  out  of  their  hands;  but  as  for  me,  how  many  times,  as  all 
the  workl  very  well  knows,  have  I  delivered,  either  by  power 
or  fraud,  those  that  have  faithfully  served  me,  from  him  and 
his,  though  taken  by  them  1  and  so  I  will  deliver  thee. 

Cur.  His  forbearing  at  present  to  deliver  them  is  on  purpose 
to  try  their  love,  whether  they  will  cleave  to  him  to  the  end; 
and  as  for  the  ill  end  thou  sayest  they  come  to,  that  is  most 
glorious  in  their  account;  for,  for  present  deliverance,  they 
do  not  much  expect  it;  for  they  stay  for  their  glory,  and  then 
they  shall  have  it,  wdien  their  Prince  comes  in  his  glory  and 
the  glory  of  the  angels. 

Apol,  Thou  hast  already  been  unfaithful  in  thy  service  to 
him ;  and  how  dost  thou  think  to  receive  wages  of  him  ? 

Ciin.  Wherein,  O  Apollyon,  have  1  been  unfaithful  to  him  ? 

Apol.  Thou  didst  faint  at  first  setting  out,  when  thou  wast 


60  APOLLYON  IN  A  RAGE. 

almost  choked  in  the  Gulf  of  Despond;  thou  didst  attempt 
wrong  ways  to  be  rid  of  thy  burden,  whereas  thou  shouldest 
have  stayed  till  thy  Prince  had  taken  it  off;  thou  didst  sinfully 
sleep  and  lose  thy  choice  thing;  tliou  wast  also  almost 'per- 
suaded to  go  back  at  the  sight  of  the  lions ;  and  when  thou 
talkest  of  thy  journey,  and  of  what  tliou  hast  heard  and  seen, 
thou  art  inwardly  desirous  of  vain-glory  in  all  that  thou  sayest 
or  doe  St. 

Chr.  All  this  is  true,  and  much  more  which  thou  hast  left 
out;  but  the  Prince  whom  I  serve  and  honour  is  merciful,  and 
ready  to  forgive.  But  besides,  these  infirmities  possessed  mo 
in  thy  country,  for  there  I  sucked  them  in ;  and  I  have  groaned 
under  them,  been  so cy  for  them,  and  have  obtained  pardon 
of  my  Prince. 

Then  Apollyon  broke  out  into  a  grievous  rage,  saying,  *'  I 
am  an  enemy  to  this  Prince ;  I  hate  his  person,  his  laws,  and 
people;  I  am  come  out  on  purpose  to  withstand  thee." 

Chr.  Apollyon,  beware  what  you  do;  fori  am  in  the  King's 
highway,  the  way  of  holiness;  therefore  take  heed  to  your- 
self. 

Then  Apollyon  straddled  quite  over  the  whole  breadth  of 
the  way,  and  said,  "  I  am  void  of  fear  in  this  matter;  prepare 
thyself  to  die ;  for  I  swear  by  my  infernal  den  that  thou  shalt 
go  no  further;  here  will  I  spill  thy  blood:  "  and  with  that  he 
threw  a  flaming  dart  at  his  breast;  but  Christian  had  a  shield 
in  his  hand,  with  which  he  caught  it,  and  so  prevented  the 
danger  of  that.  Then  did  Christian  draw,  for  .he  saw  it  was 
time  to  bestir  him;  and  Apollyon  as  fast  made  at  him,  throw- 
ing darts  as  thick  as  hail;  by  the  which,  notwithstanding  al^ 
that  Christian  could  do  to  avoid  it,  Apollyon  wounded  him  in 
his  head,  his  hand,  and  foot.  This  made  Christian  give  a 
little  back.  Apollyon  therefore  followed  his  work  amain,  and 
Christian  again  took  courage,  and  resisted  as  manfully  as  he 
•iould.  This  sore  combat  lasted  for  above  half  a  day,  even 
till  Christian  was  almost  quite  spent  i  for  you  must  know  that 


APOLLYON   WOUNDED.  61 

Christian,  by  reason  of  his  wounds,  must  needs  grow  weaker 
and  weaker. 

Then  Apollyon,  espying  his  opportunity,  began  to  gather 
up  close  to  Christian,  and.  wrestling  with  him,  gave  him  a 
dreadful  fall ;  and  with  that  Christian's  sword  flew  out  of  hia 
hand.  Then  said  Apollyon,  "I  am  sure  of  thee  now."  And 
with  that  he  had  almost  pressed  him  to  death,  so  that  Chris- 
tian began  to  despair  of  life.  But  as  God  would  have  it, 
wliile  Apollyon  was  fetching  of  his  last  blow,  thereby  to  make  a 
full  end  of  this  good  man,  Cliristian  nimbly  stretched  out  liia 
hand  for  his  sword,  and  caught  it,  saying,  "Rejoice  not 
against  me,  O  mine  enemy ;  when  I  fall  I  shall  rise  "  (Micah 
vii.  8.  )  ;  and  witii  that  gave  him  a  deadly  thrust,  which  made 
him  give  back,  as  one  that  had  received  his  mortal  wound. 
Christian,  perceiving  that,  made  at  him  again,  sajang,  "Nay, 
in  all  these  things  we  are  more  than  conquerors  through  Him 
that  loved  us."  (Rom.  viii.  37,  38,)  And  with  that  Apollyon 
spread  forth  his  dragon's  wings,  and  s^ied  him  away,  that 
Christian  saw  him  no  more.     (James  iv.  7.) 

In  this  combat  no  man  can  imagine,  unless  he  had  seen  and 
heard  as  I  did,  what  yelling  and  hideous  roaring  Apollyon 
made  all  the  time  of  the  light — he  spake  like  a  dragon;  and, 
on  the  other  side,  what  sighs  and  groans  burst  from  Christian's 
heart!  I  never  saw  him  all  the  while  give  so  much  as  one 
pleasant  look,  till  he  perceived  he  had  wounded  Apollyon  with 
his  two-edged  sword;  then,  indeed,  he  did  smile  and  look  up- 
ward; but  it  was  the  dreadfuUest  sight  that  I  ever  saw. 

So  when  the  battle  was  over.  Christian  said,  "1  will  here 
give  thanks  to  Him  that  delivered  me  out  of  the  mouth  of  the 
lion,  to  him  that  did  help  me  against  Apollyon:  "  and  so  ho 
did,  saying: 

**  Gieat  Beelzebub,  the  captain  of  this  fiend,  ^ 

Desigii'd  my  ruin  ;  therefore  to  this  end 
He  sent  him  harn(?ss'd  out  ;  and  he,  with  rage 
That  hellish  was,  did  fiercely  me  engage. 


63  CHRISTIAN  HEALED  OF  HIS  WOUNDS. 

But  blessed  Michael  helped  me,  and  I, 
By  dint  of  sword,  did  quickly  make  him  fly  ; 
Therefore  to  him  let  me  give  lasting  praise, 
And  thank  and  bless  his  holy  name  always." 

Then  there  came  to  him  a  hand,  with  some  of  the  leaves  nf 
the  tree  of  life,  the  which  Christian  took  and  applied  to  tno 
wounds  that  he  had  received  in  the  battle,  and  was  healed 
immediately.  He  also  sat  down  in  tliat  place  to  eat  breadv 
and  to  drink  of  the  bottle  that  was  given  him  a  little  before: 
so  being  refreshed  he  addressed  himself  to  his  journey,  with 
his  sword  drawn  in  his  hand ;  for  he  said,  ''I  know  not  but 
some  other  enemy  may  be  at  hand."  But  he  met  with  no 
other  affront  from  ApoUyon  quite  through  this  valley. 

Now  at  the  end  of  this  valley  was  another,  called  the  Valley 
_  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  and  Christian  must  needs  go  through 
it,  because  the  way  to  the  Celestial  City  lay  through  the 
midst  of  it.  Now  this  valley  is  a  very  solitary  place.  The 
prophet  Jeremiah  thus  describes  it:  *' A  wilderness,  a  land  of 
deserts  and  of  pits,  a  land  of  drought,  and  of  the  shadow  of. 
death,  a  land  that  no  man  "  (but  a  Christian)  "passed  through, 
and  where  no  man  dwelt.*'     (Jer.  ii.  6.) 

Now  here   Christian  was  worse  put  to  it  than  in  his  fight 

with  Apollyon :  as  by  the  sequel  you  shall  see. 

i|      I  saw  then  in  my  dream,  that  when  Christian  was  got  to 

I  the  borders  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  there  met  him  two  men, 

'      children  of  them  that  brought  up  an  evil  report  of  the  hmO 

(Num.  xiii.),  making  haste  to  go  back;  to  whom  Christian 

spake  as  follows :   "Whither  are  you  going  ? " 

They  said,  "Back!  back!  and  we  would  have  you  to  do  so 
too,  if  either  life  or  peace  is  prized  by  you." 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter  ?"  said  Christian. 

"Matter!"  said  they;  "we  were  going  that  way  as  you 
are  going,  and  went  as  far  as  we  durst ;  and  indeed  we  were 
almost  past  coming  back;  for  had  we  gone  a  little  further,  we 
had  a.  tt  been  here  to  bring  the  news  to  ther  " 


TWO  MEN  DESCRIBE  THE  VALLEY.  63 

**But  what  have  you  met  with  ? "  said  Christian. 

Men.  Why,  we  were  almost  in  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of 
Death;  but  that  by  good  hap  we  looked  before  us,  and  saw 
the  danger  before  we  came  to  it.     (Psa.  xliv.  19;  cvii.  10.) 

*'But  what  have  you  seen  ?  "  said  Christian. 

Men.  Seen!  Why,  tlie  valley  itself,  which  is  as  dark  as 
pitch :  we  also  saw  there  the  hobgoblins,  satyrs,  and  dragons 
of  the  pit:  we  heard  also  in  that  valley  a  continual  howling 
and  yelling,  as  of  a  people  under  unutterable  misery,  who 
there  sat  bound  in  affliction  and  irons ;  and  over  that  valley 
hang  the  discouraging  clouds  of  confusion.  Death  also  doth 
always  spread  his  wings  over  it.  In  a  word,  it  is  every  whit 
dreadful,  being  utterly  without  order.     (Job  iii.  6;  x.  22.) 

"Theu,"  said  Christian,  "I  perceive  not  yet,  by  what  you 
have  said,  but  that  this  is  my  way  to  the  desired  haven.'* 
(Jer.  ii.  6.) 

Men.  Be  it  thy  way ;  we  will  not  choose  it  for  ours. 

So  they  parted,  and  Christian  went  on  his  way,  but  still 
with  his  sword  drawn  in  his  hand,  for  fear  lest  he  should  be 
assaulted. 

I  saw  then  in  my  dream,  so  far  as  tliis  valley  reached,  there 
was  on  ihe  right  hand  a  very  deap  ditch ;  that  ditch  is  it  into 
which  the  blind  hav»e  led  the  blind  in  all  ages,  and  have  both 
there  miserably  perished.  (Psa.  Ixix.  14.)  Again,  behold, 
on  the  left  hand  there  was  a  very  dangerous  quag,  into  which, 
if  even  a  good  man  falls,  he  can  find  no  bottom  for  his  foot 
to  stand  on.  Into  that  quag  King  David  once  did  fall,  and 
had  no  doubt  therein  been  smothered,  had  not  He  that  is  able 
plucked  him  out. 

The  pathway  was  here  also  exceeding  narrow,  and  therefore 
go^d  Christian  was  the  more  put  to  it;  for  when  he  sought 
in  the  dark  to  shun  the  ditch  on  tlie  one  hand,  he  was  ready 
to  tip  over  into  the  mire  on  the  other;  also  when  he  sought 
tQ  escape  the  mire,  without  great  carefulness  he  would  be 
ready  to  fall  into  the  ditch.     Thus  he  went  on,  acd  I  hearoJ 


64  BANGERS  OF  THE  WAT. 

him  here  sigh  bitterly:  for,  besides  tlie  dangers  mentioned 
above,  the  pathway  was  here  so  dark,  that  ofttimes  when  he 
lift  up  his  foot  to  set  forward,  he  knew  not  where  or  upon 
what  he  should  set  it  next. 

About  the  midst  of  this  valley,  I  perceived  the  mouth  of 
hell  to  be,  and  it  stood  also  hard  by  the  way-side.  Now, 
thought  Christian,  what  shall  I  do  ?  And  ever  and  anon  the 
fiame  and  smoke  would  come  out  in  such  abundance,  with 
sparks  and  hideous  noises  (things  that  cared  not  for  Chris- 
tian's sword,  as  did  ApoUyon  before),  that  he  was  forced  to 
put  up  his  sword,  and  betake  himself  to  another  weapon, 
called  all-prayer.  (Eph.  vi.  18.)  So  he  cried  in  my  hearing, 
*'0  Lord,  I  beseech  thee,  deliver  my  soul!"  (Psa.  cxvi.  4.) 
Thus  he  went  on  a  great  while,  yet  still  the  flames  would  be 
reaching  towards  him :  also  he  heard  doleful  voices,  and  rush- 
ings  to  and  fro,  so  that  sometimes  he  thought  he  should  be 
torn  in  pieces,  or  trodden  down  like  mire  in  the  streets. 
This  frightful  sight  w^as  seen,  and  these  dreadful  noises  were 
heard  by  him  for  several  miles  together:  and  coming  to  a 
place  where  he  thouglit  he  heard  a  company  of  fiends  coming 
to  meet  him,  he  stopped,  and  began  to  muse  whcit  he  had  best 
to  do.  Sometimes  he  had  half  a  thought  to  go  back :  then 
again  he  thought  he  might  be  half  way  through  the  valley: 
he  remembered  also  how  he  liad  already  vanouished  many  a 
danger,  and  that  the  danger  of  going  back  might  be  much 
more  than  for  to  go  forward ;  so  he  resolved  to  go  on.  Yet 
the  fiends  seemed  to  come  nearer  and  nearer;  but  when  they 
were  come  even  almost  at  him,  he  cried  out  with  a  most  vehe- 
ment voice,  '*I  will  walk  in  the  strengtli  of  the  Lord  God  ! " 
So  they  gave  back,  and  came  no  further. 

One  thing  I  would  not  let  slip.  I  took  notice  that  now 
poor  Christian  was  so  confounded  that  he  did  not  know  his 
ow^n  voice;  and  thus  I  perceived  it.  Just  when  he  w^as  come 
over  against  the  mouth  of  the  burning  pit,  one  of  the  wicked 
ones  got  behind  him,  and  stept  up  softly  to   him,  and  whis- 


#v 


TAT^ITATTVF.  .Paoa  7fl. 


CHRISTIAN  DISCONSOLATE.  65 

l^eringly  suggested  many  grievous  blasphemies  to  him,  which 
he  verily  thought  had  proceeded  from  his  own  mind.  This 
put  Christian  more  to  it  than  anything  that  he  met  with  be- 
fore, even  to  think  that  he  should  now  blaspheme  him  that  he 
loved  so  much  before;  yet,  if  he  could  have  helped  it,  he 
would  not  have  done  it;  but  he  had  not  the  discretion  either 
to  stop  his  ears,  or  to  know  from  whence  these  blasphemies* 
came. 

When  Christian  had  travelled  in  this  disconsolate  condition 

some  considerable  time,  he  thought  he  heard  the  voice  of  a 

man,  as  going  before  him,  saying,  "  Though  I  walk  through 

^the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil;  for 

thou  art  with  me."     (Psa.  xxiii.  4.) 

Then  he  was  glad,  and  that  for  these  reasons: — 

First.  Because  he  gathered  from  thence,  that  some  who 
feared  God  w(;re  in  this  valley  as  well  as  himself. 

Secondly.  For  that  he  perceived  God  was  with  them,  though 
in  that  dark  and  dismal  state;  and- why  not,  thought  he,  with 
me  ?  though  by  reason  of  the  impediment  that  attends  this 
place,  I  cannot  perceive  it.     (Job  ix.  11.) 

Thirdly.  For  that  he  hoped  (could  he  overtake  them)  to 
have  company  by  apd  by.  So  he  went  on,  and  called  to  him 
that  was  before ;  but  he  knew  not  what  to  answer ;  for  that  he 
also  thought  himself  to  be  alone.  And  by  and  by  the  day 
broke:  then  said  Christian,  "  He  hath  turned  '  the  shadow  of 
death  into  the  morning.'  "     (Amos  v.  8.) 

Now  morning  being  come,  he  looked  back,  not  out  of  de- 
sire to  return,  but  to  see,  by  the  light  of  the  day,  what 
hazards  he  had  gone  through  in  the  dark.  So  he  saw  more 
perfectly  the  ditch  that  was  on  the  one  hand  and  the  quag 
that  was  on  the  other ;  also  how  narrow  the  way  was  which 
led  betwixt  them  both ;  also  now  he  saw  the  hobgoblins,  and 
satyrs,  and  dragons  of  the  pit,  but  all  afar  off;  for,  after  break 
of  day,  they  came  not  nigh ;  yet  they  were  discovered  to  him, 
according  to  that  which  is  written,  *'He  discovereth  deep 


66  THE  TWO  GIANTS. 

things  out  of  darkness,  and  bringeth  out  to  light  the  shadow 
of  death."     (Job  xii.  22.) 

Now  was  Christian  much  affected  with  his  deliverance  from 
all  the  dangers  of  his  solitary  way ;  which  dangers,  though 
he  feared  them  more  before,  yet  he  saw  them  more  clearly 
now,  because  the  light  of  the  day  made  them  conspicuous  to 
him.  And  about  this  time  the  sun  was  rising,  and  this  waF' 
another  mercy  to  Christian;  for  you  must  note,  that  though, 
the  first  part  of  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death  was  dan- 
gerous, yet  this  second  pai-t  which  he  had  to  go  was,  if  possi- 
ble, far  more  dangerous:  for  from  the  place  where  he  now 
stood,  even  to  the  end  of  the  valley,  the  way  was  all  along, 
set  so  full  of  snares,  traps,  gins,  and  nets  here,  and  so  full  of 
pits,  pitfalls,  deep  holes,  and  shelvings  down  there,  that,  had 
it  not  been  dark,  as  it  was  when  he  came  the  first  part  of  the 
way,  had  he  had  a  thousand  souls,  they  had  in  reason  been 
cast  away;  but,  as  I  said,  just  now  the  sun  was  rising.  Then 
said  he,  '*His  candle  shineth  upon  my  head,  and  by  his  light 
I  walk  through  darkness."     (Job  xxix.  3.) 

In  this  light,  therefore,  he  came  to  the  end  of  the  valley. 
Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  at  the  end  of  this  valley  lay 
blood,  bones,  ashes,  and  mangled  bodies  of  men,  even  of  pil- 
grims that  had  gone  this  way  formerly :  and  while  I  was  mu- 
sing what  should  be  the  reason,  I  espied  a  little  before  me  a 
cave,  where  two  giants.  Pope  and  Pagan,  dwelt  in  old  time ; 
by  whose  power  and  tyranny  the  men  whose  bones,  blood, 
ashes,  etc.,  lay  there,  were  cruelly  put  to  death.  But  by  this 
place  Christian  went  without  much  danger,  whereat  I  some- 
what v/ondered:  but  I  have  learned  since,  that  Pagan  has 
been  dead  many  a  day;  and  as  for  the  other,  though  he  be 
yet  alive,  he  is,  by  reason  of  age,  and  also  of  the  many  shrewd 
brushes  that  he  met  with  in  his  younger  days,  grown  so  crazy  I 
and  stiff  in  his  joints,  that  he  can  now  do  little  more  than  sit 
in  his  cave's  mouth,  grinning  at  pilgrims  as  they  go  by,  and 
biting  his  nails  because  he  cannot  come  at  them. 


STRONG   IN    THE   LORD.  67 

So  I  saw  that  Christian  went  on  his  way ;  yet,  at  the  sight 
of  the  okl  man  that  sat  in  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  he  could 
not  tell  what  to  think,  especially  because  he  spake  to  him, 
though  he  could  not  go  after  him,  saying,  ''You  will  never 
mend  till  more  of  you  be  burned."  But  he  held  his  peace, 
and  set  a  good  face  on  it,  and  so  went  by  and  catched  no^ 
hurt.     Then  sang  Christian — 

**  O  world  of  wonders  !  (I  can  say  no  less  !) 
That  I  should  he  preserved  in  that  distress 
That  I  have  met  with  here  !     Oh,  blessed  be 
That  hand  that  from  it  hath  delivered  me  ! 
Dangers  in  darkness,  devils,  hell,  and  sin 
Did  compass  me,  while  I  this  vale  was  in  : 
Yea,  snares,  and  pits,  and  traps,  and  nets  did  lie 
My  path  about,  that  worthless,  silly  I 
Might  have  been  catch'd,  entangled,  and  cast  down  ; 
But  since  I  live,  let  Jesus  wear  the  crown." 

Kow  as  Christian  went  on  his  way,  he  came  to  a  little  ascent, 
which  was  cast  up  on  purpose  that  ])ilgrims  might  see  before 
them.  Up  therefore  Christian  went,  and  looking  forward,  he 
saw  Faithful  before  him,  upon  his  journey.  Then  said  Chris- 
tian aloud,  "Ho,  ho,  so-ho!  stay,  and  I  will  be  your  com- 
panion!" At  that,  Faithful  looked  behind ;  to  whom  Chris- 
tian cried  agaiu,  "Stay,  stay,  till  I  come  up  to  you."  But 
Faithful  answered,  "  No,  I  am  upon  my  life,  and  the  avenger 
of  blood  is  behind  me."  At  this,  Christian  was  somewhat 
moved,  and,  putting  to  all  his  strength,  he  quickly  got  up 
with  Faithful,  and  did  also  overrun  him;  so  tlie  last  was  first. 
Then  did  Christian  vain-gloriously  smile,  because  he  had  got- 
ten the  start  of  his  brother;  but  not  taking  good  heed  to  J 
his  feet,  he  suddenly  stumbled  and  fell,  and  could  not  rise 
again  until  Faithful  came  up  to  help  him. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream  they  went  very  lovingly  on  to- 
gether, and  had  sweet  diycourse  of  all  things  that  had  hap- 


68  PLIABLE   AND   HIS   NEIGHBOURS. 

pened  to  them  in  their  pilgrimage ;  and  thus  Christian  "b  • 
gan: 

Chii.  My  honoured  and  well-beloved  brother  Faithful,  I  an 
glad  that  I  have  overtaken  you ;  and  that  God  has  so  temper 
ed  our  spirits  that  we  can  walk  as  companions  in  this  so  pleas 
ant  a  path. 

'  Faith.  I  had  thought,  dear  friend,  to  have  had  your  com 
pany  quite  from  our  town ;  but  you  did  get  the  start  of  me^ 
wherefore  I  was  forced  to  come  this  much  of  the  way  alone. 

Chr.  How  long  did  you  stay  in  the  City  of  Destruction, 
before  you  set  out  after  me  on  your  pilgrimage  ? 

Faith.  Till  I  could  stay  no  longer;  for  there  was  great 
talk  presently  after  you  were  gone  out,  that  our  city  would, 
in  a  short  time,  with  fire  from  heaven  be  burned  down  to  the 
ground. 

Chr.  What !  did  your  neighbours  talk  so  ? 

Faith.  Yes,  it  was  for  a  while  in  everybody's  mouth. 

Chr.  What!  aad  did  no  more  of  them  but  you  come  out 
to  escape  the  danger  ! 

Faith.  Though  there  was,  as  I  said,  a  great  talk  there- 
about, yet  I  do  not  think  they  did  firmly  believe  it.  For 
in  the  heat  of  the  discourse,  I  heard  some  of  them  deridingly 
speak  of  you  and  of  your  desperate  journey  (for  so  they 
called  this  your  pilgrimage) ;  but  I  did  believe,  and  do  still,  that 
the  end  of  our  city  will  be  with  fire  and  brimstone  from  above ; 
and  therefore  I  have  made  mine  escape. 

Chr.  Did  you  hear  no  talk  of  netghbour  Pliable  ? 

Faith.  Yes,  Christian,  I  heard  that  he  followed  you  till  he 
came  at  the  Slough  of  Despond,  where,  as  some  said,  he  fell 
in;  but  he  would  not  be  known  to  have  so  done;  but  I  am 
sure  he  was  soundly  bedabbled  with  that  kind  of  dirt. 

Chr.  And  what  said  the  neighbours  to  him  ? 

Faith.  He  hath,  since  his  going  back,  been  had  greatly  in 
derision,  and  that  among  all  sorts  of  people :  some  do  mock 
and  despise  him ;  and  scarce  will  any  set  him  on  work.     He 


IBAITHFUL  MEETS  WANTON.  69 

is  now  seven  times  worse  than  if  lie  had  never  gone  out  of  the 
city. 

Chr.  But  why  should  they  be  so  set  against  him,  since  they 
all  despise  the  way  that  he  forsook  ? 

1  Faith.  Oh,  they  say,  ''Hang  him,  he  is  a  turncoat!  he  was 
not  true  to  his  profession."  I  think  God  has  stirred  up  even 
his  enemies  to  hiss  at  him,  and  make  him  a  proverb,  because^ 
he  hath  forsaken  the  way.     (Jer.  xxix.  18,  19.) 

Chr.  Had  you  no  talk  with  him  before  you  came  out  ? 

Faith.  I  met  him  once  in  tlie  streets,  but  he  leered  away  on 
the  other  side,  as  one  ashamed  of  what  he  had  done ;  so  I 
spake  not  to  him. 

Chr.  Well,  at  my  first  setting  out,  I  had  hopes  of  that  man ; 
but  now  I  fear  he  will  perish  in  the  overthrow  of  the  city ;  for 
it  is  happened  to  him  according  to  the  true  proverb:  ''The 
dog  is  turned  to  his  own  vomit  again ;  and  the  sow  that  was 
washed  to  her  wallowing  in  the  mire."     (2  Pet.  ii.  22.) 

Faith.  They  are  my  fears  of  him  too ;  but  who  can  hinder 
that  which  will  be  ? 

*' Well,  neighbour  Faithful,"  said  Christian,  "let  us  leave 
him  and  talk  of  things  that  more  immediately  concern  our- 
selves. Tell  me  now  what  you  have  met  with  in  the  way  as 
you  came;  for  I  know  you  have  met  with  some  things,  or  else 
it  may  be  writ  for  a  wonder." 

Faith.  I  escaped  the  slough  that  I  perceived  you  fell  into,' 
and  got  up  to  the  gate  without  that  danger:  only  I  met  with 
one  whose  name  was  Wanton,  that  had  liked  to  have  done  me 
a  mischief. 

Chr.  It  was  well  you  escaped  her  net.  Joseph  was  hard  put 
to  it  by  her,  and  he  escaped  her  as  you  did;  but  it  had  liked 
to  have  cost  him  his  life.  (Gen.  xxxix.  11-13.)  But  what 
did  she  do  to  you  ?  "'' 

Faith.  You  cannot  think  (but  that  you  know  something) 
what  a  flattering  tongue  she  had;  she  lay  at  me  hard  to  turn 
aside  with  her,  promising  me  all  manner  of  content. 


70  ADAM  THE  FIRST. 

Chu.  I^ay,  she  did  not  promise  you  the  eontent  of  a  good 
cofiscience. 

Faith.  You  know  what  I  mean — all  carnal  and  fleshly  con- 
tent. 

Chk.  Thank  God  you  have  escaped  her:  the  abhorred  of 
the  Lord  shall  fall  into  her  ditch.     (Prov.  xxii.  14.) 

Faith.  Nay,  I  know  not  whether  I  did  wholly  escape  her  or 
no. 

Chb.  Why,  I  trow*  you  did  not  consent  to  her  desires  ? 

Faith.  No,  not  to  defile  myself;  for  I  remembered  an  old 
writing  that  I  had  seen,  which  said,  "  Her  steps  take  hold  on 
Hell."  (Prov.  v.  5.)  So  I  shut  mine  eyes,  because  I  would 
not  be  bewitched  with  her  looks.  (Job.  xxxi.  1.)  Then  she 
railed  on  me,  and  I  went  my  way. 

Chr.  Did  you  meet  with  no  other  assault  as  you  came  ? 

Faith.  When  I  came  to  the  foot  of  the  hill  called  Difficulty, 
I  met  with  a  very  aged  man,  who  asked  me  what  I  was,  and 
whither  bound.  I  told  him  that  I  was  a  pilgrim,  going  to  the 
Celestial  City.  Then  said  the  old  man,  "Thou  lookest  liko 
an  honest  fellow;  wilt  thou  be  content  to  dwell  with  me  foi 
the  wages  tliat  I  shall  give  thee  ?  "  Then  I  asked  him  his 
name,  and  where  he  dwelt.  He  said  his  name  was  Adam  the 
First,  and  that  he  dwelt  in  the  town  of  Deceit,  (Eph.  iv.  22.) 
I  asked  him  then  what  was  his  work,  and  what  the  wages 
that  he  would  give.  He  told  me  that  his  work  was  many  de- 
lights; aud  his  wages,  that  I  should  be  his  heir  at  last.  I 
further  asked  him  what  house  he  kept,  and  what  other  ser- 
vants he  had.  So  he  told  me  that  his  house  was  maintained 
with  all  the  dainties  iu  the  world,  and  that  his  servants  were 
those  of  his  own  begetting.  Then  I  asked  him  how  many 
children  he  had.  He  said  that  he  had  but  three  daughters: 
the  Lust  of  the  Flesh,  the  Lust  of  the  Eyes,  and  the  Pride  of 
Life,  and  that  I  should  many  them  if  I  would.     (1  John  ii. 

♦BelieTc, 


TJIE  FRIEND  OF  SINNERS..  71 

!8.)  Then  I  asked  how  long  time  he  would  have  me  live 
with  him.     And  he  told  me,  as  long  as  he  lived  himself. 

Chr.  "Well,  and  what  conclusion  came  the  old  man  and  you 
to  at  last  ? 

Faith.  WTiy,  at  first  I  found  myself  somewhat  inclined  to 
go  with  the  man,  for  I  thought  he  spake  very  fair;  but  look- 
ing in  his  forehead,  as  I  talked  with  him,  I  saw  there  written,! 
"Put  off  the  old  man  with  his  deeds.'' 

Chr.  And  how  then  ? 

Faith.  Then  it  came  burning  hot  into  my  mind,  whatever 
he  said  and  however  he  flattered,  when  he  gOt  me  home  to  his 
house  he  would  sell  me  for  a  slave.  So  I  bid  him  forbear  to 
talk,  for  I  would  not  come  near  the  door  of  his  house.  Then 
he  reviled  me,  and  told  me  he  would  send  such  a  one  after  mc, 
that  should  make  my  way  bitter  to  my  soul.  So  I  turned  to 
go  away  from  him;  but  just  as  I  turned  myself  to  go  thence,  I 
felt  him  take  hold  of  my  flesh,  and  give  me  such  a  deadly 
twitch  back,  that  I  thought  he  had  pulled  part  of  me  after 
himself.  This  made  me  cry,  "O  wretched  man  !"  (Rom. 
vii.  24.)     So  I  went  on  my  way  up  the  hill. 

Now  when  I  had  got  about  half  way  up,  1  looked  behind, 
and  saw  one  coming  after  me,  swift  as  the  wind ;  so  he  over- 
took me  just  about  the  place  where  the  settle  stands. 

"Just  there,"  said  Christian,  "did  I  sit  down  to  rest  me; 
but  being  overcome  with  sleep,  I  there  lost  this  roll  out  of  my 
bosom." 

Faith.  But,  good  brother,  hear  me  out.  So  soon  as  the 
man  overtook  me,  he  was  but  a  word  and  a  blow,  for  down 
he  knocked  me,  and  laid  me  for  dead.  But  when  I  was  a 
little  come  to  myself  again,  I  asked  him  wherefore  he  served 
me  so.  He  said,  because  of  my  secret  inclining  to  Adam  the 
First;  and  with  that  he  struck  me  another  deadly  blow  on  the 
breast,  and  beat  me  down  backward;  so  I  lay  at  his  foot  as 
dead  as  before.  So,  when  I  came  to  myself  again,  I  cried  him 
mercy;  but  he  said,  "  I  know  not  how  to  show  mercy;  "  and 


72  DISCONTENT. 

with  that  knocked  mt  down  again.     He  had  doubtless  made 
an  end  of  me,  but  that  One  came  by  and  bid  him  forbear. 

Chr.  Who  was  that  that  bid  him  forbear  ? 
,    Faith.  I  did  not  know  him  at  first,  but  as  he  went  by  I  per- 
ceived the  holes  in  his  hands  and  in  his  side;  Jien  I  concluded 
that  he  was  our  Lord.     So  I  went  up  the  hill. 

Chu.  That  man  that  overtook  you  was  Moses.  He  spareth 
none,  neither  knoweth  he  how  to  show  mercy  to  those  that 
transgress  his  law. 

Faith.  I  know  it  very  well;  it  was  not  the  'first  time  that 
he  has  met  with  me.  It  was  he  that  came  to  me  when  I  dwelt 
securely  at  home,  and  that  told  me  he  would  burn  the  house 
over  my  head  if  I  stayed  there. 

Chr.  But  did  you  not  see  the  house  that  stood  there  on  the 
top  of  the  hill,  on  the  side  of  which  Moses  inet  you  ? 

Faith.  Yes,  and  the  lions  too,  before  I  came  at  it :  but  for 
the  lions,  I  think  they  were  asleep,  for  it  was  about  noon ; 
and  because  I  had  so  much  of  the  day  before  me,  I  passed  by 
the  porter,  and  came  down  the  hill. 

Chr.  He  told  me,  indeed,  that'  he  saw  you  go  by,  but  I 
wish  you  had  called  at  the  house,  for  they  would  have  showed 
you  many  rarities,  that  you  would  scarce  have  forgot  them  to 
the  day  of  your  death.  But  pray  tell  me,  did  you  meet  no- 
body in  the  Valley  of  Humility  ? 

Faith.  Yes,  I  met  with  one  Discontent,  who  would  will- 
ingly have  persuaded  me  to  go  back  again  with  him :  his  rea- 
son was,  for  that  the  valley  was  altogether  without  honour. 
He  told  me,  moreover,  that  there  to  go  was  the  way  to  dis- 
obey all  my  friends,  as  Pride,  Arrogance,  Self-conceit,  World- 
ly-glory, with  others,  who  he  knew,  as  he  said,  would  be  very 
^uch  offended,  if  I  made  such  a  fool  of  myself  as  to  wade 
thj'ough  ^this  valley. 

Chr.  Well,  and  how  did  you  answer  him  ? 

Faith.  I  told  him  that  although  ail  these  that  he  named 
might  claim  kindred  of  me,  and  that  rightly  (for  indeed  they 


FAITHFUL  WITHSTANDS   SHAME.  73 

were  my  relations  according  to  the  flesh),  yet  since  I  became  a 
pilgrim,  they  have  disowned  me,  as  I  also  have  rejected  them ; 
and  therefore  they  were  to  me  now  no  more  than  if  they  had 
never  been  of  my  lineage.  I  told  him,  moreover,  that  as  to 
this  valley,  he  had  quite  misrepresented  the  thing;  "for  be- 
fore honour  is  humility,  and  a  haughty  spirit  before  a  fall." 
*•  Therefore,"  said  I,  *'I  had  rather  go  through  this  valley  to 
the  honour  that  was  so  accounted  by  the  wisest,  than  choose 
that  which  he  esteemed  most  worthy  our  affections." 

Chr.  Met  you  with  nothing  else  in  that  valley  ? 

Faith.  Yes,  I  met  with  Shame;  but  of  all  the  men  that  I 
met  with  in  my  pilgrimage,  he,  I  think,  bears  the  wrong 
name.  The  others  would  be  said  nay,  after  a  little  argumen- 
tation (and  somewhat  else),  but  this  bold  face  Shame  would 
never  have  done. 

Chr.  Why,  what  did  he  say  to  you  ? 

Faith,  What!  why,  he  objected  against  religion  itself ;  he 
said  it  was  a  pitiful,  low.  sneaking  business  for  a  man  to 
mind  religion;  he  said  that  a  tender  conscience  was  an  un 
manly  thing;  and  that  for  a  man  to  watch  over  his  words  and 
ways,  so  as  to  tie  up  himself  from  that  hectoring  liberty  that 
the  brave  spirits  of  the  times  accustom  themselves  unto, 
would  make  him  the  ridicule  of  the  times.  He  objected  also 
that  but  few  of  the  mighty,  rich,  or  wise  were  ever  of  my 
opinion  ;  nor  any  of  them  neither,  before  they  were  persuaded 
to  be  fools,  and  to  be  of  a  voluntary  fondness  to  venture  the 
loss  of  all,  for  nobody  else  knows  what.  (1  Cor.  1.  26 ;  iii. 
18;  Phil.  iii.  7,  8;  John  vii.  48.)  He  moreover  objected  to 
the  base  and  low  estate  and  condition  of  those  that  were 
chiefly  the  pilgrims  of  the  times  in  which  they  lived,  also  their 
ignorance  and  want  of  understanding  in  all  natural  science. 
Yea,  he  did  hold  me  to  it  at  that  rate  about  a  great  many 
more  things  than  here  I  relate;  as,  that  it  was  a  shame  to  sit 
whining  and  mourning  under  a  sermon,  and  a  sliame  to  come 
iighing  and  groaning  home ;  that  it  was  a  shame  to  ask  my 


74  SHAME   IS   SHAKEN   OFF. 

neighbour  forgiveness  for  petty  faults,  or  to  make  restitution 
where  I  had  taken  from  any.  He  said  also  that  religion  made 
a  man  grow  strange  to  the  great,  because  of  a  few  vices 
(which  he  called  by  finer  names),  and  made  him  own  and  re- 
spect the  base,  because  of  the-  same  religious  fraternity. 
"And  is  not  this,"  said  he,  *'  a  sliamef  " 

Che.  And  what  did  you  say  to  him  ? 

Faith.  Say  !  I  could  not  tell  what  to  say  at  first.  Yea,  he 
put  me  so  to  it,  that  my  blood  came  up  in  my  face :  even  this 
Shame  fetched  it  up,  and  had  almost  beat  me  quite  off.  But 
at  last  I  began  to  consider,  'Hhat  which  is  highly  esteemed 
among  men  is  abomination  in  the  sight  of  God."  (Luke  xvi. 
15.)  And  I  thouglit  again,  this  Shame  tells  me  what  men  are ; 
but  he  tells  me  nothing  what  God  or  the  Word  of  God  is. 
And  I  thought,  moreover,  that  at  the  day  of  doom  we  shall 
not  be  doomed  to  death  or  life  according  to  the  hectoring 
spirits  of  the  world,  but  according  to  the  wisdom  and  law  of 
the  Highest.  Therefore,  thought  I,  what  God  says  is  best  in- 
deed is  best,  though  all  the  men  in  the  world  are  against  it. 
Seeing,  then,  that  God  prefers  his  religion;  seeing  God  pre- 
fers a  tender  conscience;  seeing  they  that  make  themselves 
fools  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven  are  wisest;  and  that  the 
poor  man  that  loveth  Christ  is  richer  than  the  .greatest  man  in 
the  world  that  hates  him:  Shame,  depart;  thou  art  an  enemy 
to  my  salvation  !  Shall  I  entertain  thee  against  my  sovereign 
Lord  ?  How  then  shall  I  look  him  in  the  face  at  his  coming  ? 
Should  I  now  be  ashamed  of  his  ways  and  servants,  hov/  can 
I  expect  the  blessing  ?  (Mark  viii.  3S.)  But,  indeed,  this 
Shame  was  a  bold  villain;  I  could  scarce  shake  him  out 
of  my  company;  yea,  he  would  be  hunting  of  me,  and 
continually  whispering  me  in  the  ear,  with  some  one  or 
other  of  the  infirmities  that  attend  religion ;  but  at  last  I  told 
him  it  was  but  in  vain  to  attempt  further  in  this  business;  for 
those  things  that  he  disdained,  in  those  did -I  see  most  glory; 
and  so.  at  last  I  got  past  this  importunate  one.  And  when  I 
bad  shaken  him  off,  then  I  began  to  sing — 


THE   FIGHT    WITH   APOLLYON.  75 

'■  The  trials  that  those  men  do  meet  withal, 
That  are  obedient  to  the  heavenly  call, 
Are  manifold,  and  suited  to  the  fiosh, 
And  come,  and  come,  and  come  again  afresh  ; 
That  now,  or  sometime  else,  we  by  them  may 
Be  taken,  overcome,  and  cast  away. 
Oh  let  the  pilgrims,  let  the  pilgrims,  then. 
Be  vigilant,  and  quit  tli  mselves  like  men." 

Cim.  I  am  glad,  my  brother,  that  thou  didst  withstand  this 
villain  so  bravely;  for  of  all,  as  thou  sayest,  I  think  he  has 
the  wrong  name ;  for  he  is  so  bold  as  to  follow  us  in  the  streets, 
and  to  attempt  to  put  us  to  shame  before  all  men:  that  is,  to 
make  us  ashamed  of  that  which  is  good,  but  if  he  was  not 
himself  audacious,  he  would  never  attempt  to  do  as  he  does; 
but  let  us  still  resist  him ;  for,  notwithstanding  all  his  brava- 
does, he  promoteth  the  fool,  and  none  else.  ''The  wise  shall 
inherit  glory,"  said  Solomon  ;  "but  shame  shall  be  the  promo- 
tion of  fools."     (Prov.  iii.  35.) 

Faith.  I  think  we  must  cry  to  Him  for  help  against 
Shame  that  would  have  us  be  valiant  for  truth  upon  the 
earth. 

Cbr.  You  say  true.  But  did  you  meet  nobody  else  in  that 
valley  ? 

Faith.  No,  not  I;  for  I  had  sunshine  all  the  rest  of  the 
way  through  that,  and  also  through  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow 
of  Death. 

Chr.  It  was  well  for  you;  I  am  sure  it  fared  far  otherwise 
with  me.  I  had  for  a  long  season,  as  soon  almost  as  I  entered 
into  that  valley,  a  dreadful  combat  with  that  foul  fiend  Apol- 
lyon ;  yea,  I  thought  verily  he  would  have  killed  me,  especial- 
ly when  he  got  me  aown  and  crushed  me  under  him,  as  if  he( 
would  have  crushed  me  to  pieces:  for  as  he  threw  me,  my 
sword  flew  out  of  my  hand;  nay,  he  told  me  he  was  sure  of 
me :  but  I  cried  to  God,  and  he  heard  me,  and  delivered  me 
out  of  all  my  troubles.  Then  I  entered  into  the  Valley  of 
the  Shadow  of  Death,  and  had  no  light  for  almost  half  the 


76  A  GREAT   TALKER. 

way  through  it.  I  thought  I  should  have  been  killed  thew, 
over  and  over;  but  at  last  day  broke,  and  the  sun  rose,  and  1 
went  through  that  which  was  behind  with  far  more  ease  and 
quiet. 

Moreover,  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  as  they  went  on.  Faith- 
ful, as  he  chanced  to  look  on  one  side,  saw  a  man  whose  name 
is  Talkative,  walking  at  a  distance  beside  them  (for  in  this 
place  there  was  room  enough  for  them  all  to  walk).  He  was 
a  tall  man,  and  something  more  comely  at  a  distance  than  at 
hand.  To  this  man  Faithful  addressed  himself  in  this  man- 
ner: 

*' Friend,  whither  away  ?  Are  you  going  to  the  heavenly 
country  ?  ■' 

Talk.  I  am  going  to  the  same  place. 

Faith.  That  is  well ;  then  I  hope  we  may  have  jour  good 
company. 

Talk.  With  a  very  good  will  will  I  be  your  companion. 

Faith.  Come  on,  then,  and  let  us  go  together,  and  let  us 
spend  our  time  in  discoursing  of  things  that  are  profitable. 

Talk.  To  talk  of  things  that  are  good,  to  me  is  very  accept- 
able, with  you  or  with  any  other;  and  I  am  glad  that  I  have 
met  with  those  who  incline  to  so  good  a  work :  for,  to  speak 
the  truth,  there  are  but  few  that  care  thus  to  spend  their 
time  as  they  are  in  their  travels,  but  choose  much  rather  to  be 
speaking  of  things  to  no  profit ;  and  this  hath  been  a  trouble 
to  me. 

Faith.  That  is,  indeed,  a  thing  to  be  lamented ;  for  what 
things  so  worthy  of  the  use  of  the  tongue  and  mouth  of  men 
»n  earth,  as  are  the  things  of  the  God  of  heaven  ? 
*  Talk  .  I  like  you  wonderful  well,  for  your  sayings  are  full 
of  conviction :  and  I  will  add,  what  thing  is  so  pleasant,  and 
what  so  profitable,  as  to  talk  of  the  things  of  God  ?  What 
things  so  pleasant  (that  is,  if  a  man  hath  any  delight  in  things 
that  are  wonderful)?  For  instance,  if  a  man  doth  delight  of 
the  history  or  the  mystery  of  things ;  or  if  a  man  doth  delight 


TALKATIVE'S   NOTIONS.  77 

to  talk  of  «^iracles,  wonders,  or  signs,  where  shall  he  find 
things  rc^^^  ded  so  delightful,  and  so  sweetly  penned,  as  in 
the  Holy  'Scripture  ? 

Faith  That  is  true ;  but  to  be  profited  by  such  things  in 
our  talk  should  be  that  which  we  design. 

Talf.  That  is  it  that  I  said ;  for  to  talk  of  such  things  is 
"most  profitable ;  for,  by  so  doing,  a  man  may  get  knowledge 
of  many  things;  as  of  the  vanity  of  earthly  things,  and  the 
benefit  of  things  above.  Thus  in  general ;  but  more  particu- 
larly, by  this  a  man  may  learn  the  necessity  of  the  new  birth, 
the  insufficiency  of  our  works,  the  need  of  Christ's  righteous- 
ness, etc.  Besides,  by  this  a  man  may  learn  what  it  is  to  re- 
pent, to  believe,  to  pray,  to  suffer,  or  the  like ;  by  this  also  a 
man  may  learn  what  are  the  great  promises  and  consolations 
of  the  gospel,  to  his  own  comfort.  Further,  by  this  a  man 
may  learn  to  refute  false  opinions,  to  vindicate  the  truth,  and 
also  to  instruct  the  ignorant. 

Faith.  All  this  is  true,  and  glad  am  I  to  hear  these  things 
from  you. 

T.^LK.  Alas  !  the  want  of  this  is  the  cause  why  so  few  under- 
stand the  need  of  faith,  and  the  necessity  of  a  work  of  grace 
in  tlieir  souls,  in  order  to  eternal  life ;  but  ignorantly  live  in 
the  works  of  the  law,  by  which  a  man  can  by  no  means  ob- 
tain the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

Faith.  But,  by  your  leave,  heavenly  knowledge  of  these  is 
the  gift  of  God;  no  man  attainethto  them  by  human  industry, 
or  only  by  the  talk  of  them. 

Talk.  All  this  I  know  very  well ;  for  a  man  can  receive  notli- 
ing,  except  it  be  given  him  from  heaven ;  all  is  of  grace,  not  of 
works.  I  could  give  you  a  hundred  Scriptures  for  the  confir- 
mition  of  this. 

'*  Well,  then,"  said  Faithful,  "  what  is  that  one  thing  that 
W3  shall  at  this  time  found  our  discourse  upon  ? " 

Talk.  Wliat  you  will.  I  will  talk  of  things  heavenly,  or 
tl.iugs  earthly;  things  moral,  or  things    evangelical:  tinngs 


78  FAITHFUL  BEGUILED." 

•acred,  or  things  profane;  things  past,  or  things  to  come; 
things  foreign,  or  things  at  home ;  things  more  essential,  or 
things  circumstantial;  provided  that  all  be  done  to  our  pro- 
fit. 

Now  did  Faithful  begin  to  wonder;  and,  stepping  to  Chiis- 
tian  (for  he  walked  all  this  while  by  himself),  he  said  to  him 
(iDut  softly),  *' What  a  brave  companion  have  we  got!  Surely 
this  man  will  make  a  very  excellent  pilgrim." 

At  this  Christian  modestly  smiled,  and  said,  "This  man, 
with  whom  you  are  so  taken,  will  beguile  with  that  tongUe  of 
his  twenty  of  them  that  know  hiui  not.''  j 

Faith.  Do  you  know  him,  then  ?  i 

Chr.  Know  him!  Yes,  better  than  he  knows  himself. 

Faith.  Pray,  wliat  is  he  ? 

Chr.  His  name  is  Talkative ;  he  dwelletli  in  our  towi].  I 
wonder  that  you  should  be  a  stranger  to  him;  only  I  consider 
that  our  town  is  large. 

Faith    Whose  son  is  he  ?    And  whereabout  does  he  dvell  ? 

Chr.  He  is  the  son  of  one  Say-well ;  he  dwelt  in  Prating 
Row;  and  he  is  known  of  all  that  are  acquainted  with  hila  by 
the  name  of  Talkative  in  Prating  Row;  and,  notwithstaufling 
his  fine  tongue,  he  is  but  a  sorry  fellow.  *   | 

Faith.  Well,  he  seems  to  be  a  very  pretty  man. 

Chr.  That  is,  to  them  who  have  not  thorough  acquainjance 
with  him,  for  he  is  best  abroad;  near  home,  he  is  ugly  enojagh. 
Your  saying  that  he  is  a  pretty  man  brings  to  my  mind  vhat 
I. have  observed  in  the  work  of  the  painter,  whose  pic^res 
show  best  at  a  distance,  but,  very  near,  more  unpleasing.l 

Faith.  But  I  am  ready  to  think  you  do  but  jest,  because 
you  smiled.  \ 

Chr.  God  forbid  that  I  should  jest  (although  I  smiled!  in 
this  matter,  or  that  I  should  accuse  any  falsely !  I  will  ave 
you  a  further  discovery  of  him.  This  man  is  for  any  compapy, 
or  for  any  talk ;  as  he  talketh  now  with  you,  so  will  he  t^lk 
^hen  he  is  on  the  alebench:  and  the  more  drink  he  hath  in 


TALKATIVE'S  TRUE  CHARACTER        79 

his  crowD,  the  more  of  these  things  he  hath  in  his  mouth:  re- 
ligion hath  no  place  m  his  heart,  or  house,  or  conversation; 
all  he  hath  lieth  m  Ms  tongue,  and  his  religion  is  to  make  a 
aoise  therewith. 

Faith.  Say  you  so!  then  I  am  in  this  man  greatly  deceived. 

Ohu.  Deceived!  you  may  (L»e  sure  of  it;  remember  the  pro- 
rcrb,  "They  say  and  do  not."  (Matt,  xxiii.  3.)  But  the 
♦•-kingdom  of  God  is  not  in  word,  but  in  power."  (1  Cor.  iv. 
•iJu.)  He  talketh  of  prayer,  of  repentance,  of  faith,  and  of  the 
aewbh'th;  but  ho  knows  but  only  to  talk  of  them.  I  have 
Ooen  In  his  family,  and  have  observed  him  both  at  home  and 
abroad;  and  I  know  what  I  say  ol  him  is  the  truth.  His 
house  is  as  empty  of  religion  as  the  white  of  an  egg  is  of 
savour.  There  is  there  neither  prayer  nor  sign  of  repentance^ 
for  sm;  yea,  the  brute  in  his  kind  serves  God  far  better  than 
he.  He  is  the  very  stain,  reproach,  and  sname  of  religion,  to 
all  that  know  him;  it  can  hardly  have  a  good  word  in  all  that 
end  of  the  town  where  he  dwells,  through  mm.  (Rom.  ii.  24, 
25.)  Thus  say  the  common  people  that  know  him,  "A  saint 
ahroad,  and  a  devil  at  home."  His  poor  family  finds  it  so; 
he  is  sich  a  churl,  such  a  railer  at  and  so  unreasonable  with 
his  servants,  that  they  neither  know  how  to  do  for  or  speak  to 
Inm.  Men  that  have  any  dealings  with  him  say  it  is  better  to 
deal  with  a  Turk  than  with  hiin;  for  fairer  dealing  tbey  shall 
ha^G  et  their  hands.  This  Talkative,  if  it  be  possible,  will  go 
beyond  them,  defraud,  beguile,  and  overreach  them.  Besides, 
he  K^rings  up  his  sons  to  follow  his  steps ;  and  if  he  findeth  in 
any  of  them  a  foolish  timorousness  (for  so  he  calls  the  first 
appearance  of  a  tender  conscience),  he  calls  them  fools  and 
blocxheads,  and  ])y  no  means  will  employ  thetn  in  much  or 
speak:  to  their  commendation  before  others.  For  my  part,  I 
am  of  opinion  that  he  has,  by  his  wicked  life,  caused  many 
to  stumble  and  fall ;  and  will  be,  if  God  prevent  not,  the  ruin 
of  many  more. 

FiiTH.  Well,  my  brother,  I  am  bound  to  believe  you ;  not 


80  SAYING   AND   DOING. 

only  because  you  say  you  know  him,  but  also  because  like  a 
Christian  you  make  your  reports  of  men.  For  J  cannot  think 
that  you  speak  these  things  of  ill-will,  but  because  it  is  eren 
sjo  as  you  say. 

Chr.  Had  I  known  him  no  more  than  you,  I  might  perliaps 
have  thought  of  him  as  at  the  first  you  did;  yea,  had  lie  re- 
ceived this  report  at  their  hands  only  that  are  enemies  to  re- 
ligion, I  should  have  thought  it  had  been  a  slander  (a  lot  that 
often  falls  from  bad  men's  mouths  upon  good  men's  names 
and  professions);  but  all  these  things,  yea,  and  a  great  many 
more  as  bad,  of  my  own  knowledge  I  can  prove  him  guilty  of. 
Besides,  good  men  are  ashamed  of  him;  they  can  neither  call 
him  brother  nor  friend ;  the  very  naming  of  him  among  them 
makes  them  blush,  if  they  know  him. 

Faith.  Well,  I  see  that  saying  and  doing  are  two  things,  and 
hereafter  I  shall  better  observe  this  distinction. 

Chr.  They  are  two  things,  indeed,  and  are  as  diverse  as  are 
the  soul  and  the  body;  for  as  the  body  withont  the  soulis  but 
a  dead  carcass,  so  saying,  if  it  be  alone,  is  but  a  dead  circass 
also.  The  soul  of  religion  is  the  practical  part:  *'Pure  re- 
ligion and  undefiled  before  God  and  the  Father  is  this :  To 
visit  the  fatherless  and  widows  in  their  affliction,  and  to  keep 
himself  unspotted  from  the  world."  (James  i.  27;  see  ver. 
22-26.)  This  Talkative  is  not  aware  of;  he  thinks  that  hear- 
ing and  saying  will  make  a  good  Christian,  and  thus  he  de- 
ceiveth  his  own  soul.  Hearing  is  but  as  the  sowing  of  the 
seed ;  talking  is  not  sufficient  to  prove  that  fruit  is  indeed  in 
the  heart  and  life ;  and  let  us  assure  ourselves,  that  at  the  day 
of  doom  men  shall  be  judged  according  to  their  fruits. 
(Matt,  xiii;  also  xxv.)  It  will  not  be  said  then,  *'DiO  you 
believe  ?"  but,  "Were  you  doers,  or  talkers  only  ?"  and  ac- 
cordingly shall  they  be  judged.  The  end  of  the  world  is 
compared  to  our  harvest ;  and  you  know  men  at  harvest  re- 
gard nothing  but  fruit.  Not  that  anything  can  be  accepted 
that  is  not  of  faith,  but  I  speak  this  to  show  you  how  insig- 
nificant  the  profession  of  Talkative  will  be  at  that  day. 

I 


CHRISTIAN'S  ADVICE  TO  FAITHFUL.  81 

Faith.  This  brings  to  my  mind  that  of  Moses,  by  which  he 
clesicribeth  the  beast  that  is  clean.  (Lev.  xi.  1-9 ;  Deut.  xiv. 
1-8.)  He  is  such  a  one  that  parteth  the  hoof  and  cheweth 
the  cud ;  not  that  parteth  the  hoof  only,  or  that  cheweth  the 
cud  only.  The  hare  cheweth  the  cud,  but  yet  is  unclean,  be- 
cause he  parteth  not  the  hoof.  And  this  truly  resembleth 
Talkative;  he  cheweth  the  cud,  he  seeketh  knowledge,  he 
cheweth  upon  the  Word,  but  he  divideth  not  the  hoof,  he* 
,parteth  not  with  the  way  of  sinners;  but,  as  the  hare,  he  re- 
taineth  the  foot  of  a  dog  or  bear,  and  therefore  he  is  unclean. 

Chr.  You  have  spoken,  for  aught  I  know,  the  true  gospel 
sense  of  those  texts;  and  I  will  add  another  thing.  Paul 
calleth  some  men,  yea,  and  those  great  talkers  too,  "sound- 
ing brass  and  tinkling  cymbals,"— that  is,  as  he  expounds 
them  in  another  place,  "things  without  life,  giving  sound." 
(1  Cor.  xiii.  1-3;  xiv.  7.)  Things  without  life — that  is,  with- 
out the  trne  faith  and  grace  of  the  gospel ;  and,  consequently 
things  that  shall  never  be  placed  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven 
among  those  that  are  the  children  of  life;  though  their 
sound,  by  their  talk,  be  as  if  it  were  the  tongue  or  voice  of 
an  angel. 

Faith.  Well,  I  was  not  so  fond  of  his  company  at  first,  but 
I  am  sick  of  it  now.     What  sliall  we  do  to  be  rid  of  him  ? 

Chr.  Take  my  advice,  and  do  as  I  bid  you,  and  you  shall 
find  that  he  will  soon  be  sick  of  your  company  too,  except 
God  shall  touch  his  heart,  and  turn  it. 

Faith.  What  would  you  have  me  to  do  ? 

Chr.  Why,  go  to  him,  and  enter  into  some  seifbus  dis- 
course about  the  power  of  religion;  and  ask  him  plainly 
(when  he  has  appoved  of  it,  for  that  he  will)  whether  this 
thing  be  set  up  in  his  heart,  house,  or  conversation. 

Then  Faithful  stepped  forward  again,  and  said  to  Talka- 
tive, "Come,  what  cheer  ?     How  is  it  now  ?  " 

Talk.  Thank  you,  well.  I  thought  we  should  have  had  a 
great  deal  of  talk  by  this  time. 


82  THE   SIGN   OF   OflACE. 

FAiTn.  Well,  if  you  will,  we  will  fall  to  it  now;  and  since 
you  left  it  with  me  to  state  the  question,  let  it  be  this:  ilow 
(loth  the  saving  grace  of  God  discover  itself,  when  it  is  in  the 
heart  of  man  ? 

Talk.  I  perceive,  then,  that  our  talk  must  be  about  the 
power  of  things.  "Well,  it  is  a  very  good  question,  and  I 
shall  be  willing  to  answer  you.  And  take  my  answer  in  brief, 
thus:  First,  Where  the  grace  of  God  is  in  the  heart,  it 
causeth  there  a  great  outcry  against  sin.     Secondly — 

Faith.  Nay,  hold  ;  let  us  consider  of  one  at  once.     I  think  ' 
you  should  rather  say,  it  shows  itself  by  inclining  the  soul  to 
abhor  its  sin. 

Talk.  Why,  what  difference  is  there  between  crying  out 
against,  and  abhorring  of  sin  ?* 

Faith.  Oh  !  a  great  deal.  A  man  may  cry  out  against  sin 
of  policy,  but  he  cannot  abhor  it  but  by  virtue  of  godly  antip- 
athy against  it.  I  have  heard  many  cry  out  against  sin  in 
the  pulpit,  who  yet  can  abide  it  well  enough  in  the  heart, 
house,  and  conversation.  Joseph's  mistress  cried  out  with  a 
loud  voice,  as  if  she  had  been  very  holy;  but  she  would  will- 
ingly, notwithstanding  that,  have  committed  uncleanncss 
with  him.  (Gen.  xxxix.  15.)  Some  cry  oat  against  sin,  even 
as  the  mother  cries  out  against  her  child  iu  her  lap,  when  she 
calleth  it  slut  and  naughty  girl,  and  then  falls  to  hugging  and 
kissing  it. 

Talk.  You  lie  at  the  catch,  I  perceive. 
Faith.  No,  not  I ;  I  am  only  for  setting  things  right.     But 
what  is  Ac  second  thing  whereby  you  would  prove  a  discovery 
of  a  work  of  grace  in  the  lieart  ? 
Talk.  Great  knowledge  of  gospel  mysteries. 
Faith.  This  sign  should  have  been  first ;  but,  first  or  last, 
it  is  also  false ; '  for  knowledge,  great  knowledge,  may  be  ob. 
tained  in  the  mysteries  of  the  gospel,  and  yet  no  work  ol 
grace  in  the  soul.     (1   Cor.  xiii.)     Yea,  if  a   man  have   all 
knowledge,  he  may  yet  be  nothing,  and  so  consequently  be 


A   WORK   OF   GRACE.  83 

no  child  of  God.  When  Christ  said,  *'Do  you  know  all  these 
things  ? "  and  the  disciples  had  answered  yes,  he  addeth, 
"Blessed  are  ye  if  ye  do  them."  He  doth  not  lay  the  bless- 
ing in  the  knowing  of  them,  but  in  the  doing  of  them.  For 
there  is  a  knowledge  that  is  not  attended  with  doing:  "He 
that  knoweth  his  master's  will  and  doeth  it  not."  A  man  may 
know  like  an  ange],  and  yet  be  no  Christian;  therefore  your 
sign  of  it  is  not  true.  Indeed,  to  know  is  a  thing  that  pleaseth 
talkers  and  boasters;  hxit  to  do  A^  that  which  pleaseth  God. 
Not  that  the  heart  can  be  good  v/ithout  knowledge;  for  with- 
out that  the  heart  is  naught.  There  is,  therefore,  knowledge 
and  knowledge :  knowledge  that  resteth  in  the  bare  speculation 
of  things,  and  knowledge  that  is  accom])anied  with  tlie  grcice 
of  faith  and  love,  which  puts  a  man  upon  doing  even  tlie  will 
of  God  from  the  heart:  the  first  of  these  will  serve  the  talker; 
but  without  the  other  the  true  Christian  is  not  content.  "  Give 
me  understanding,  and  I  shall  keep  thy  law;  yea,  I  shall  ob- 
serve it  with  my  whole  heart."     (Psa.  cxix.  34.) 

Talk.  You  lie  at   the  catch   again;  this  is  not  for  edifi- 
cation . 

Faith.  Well,  if  you  please,  propound  another  sign  how  this 
work  of  grace  discovereth  itself  where  it  is. 

Talk.  Not  I,  for  I  see  we  shall  not  agree. 

Faith.  Well,  if   you  will  not,  will  you  give  me  leave  to 
doit? 

Talk.  You  may  use  your  liberty. 

Faith.  A  work  of  grace  in  the  soul  discovereth  itself  either 
to  him  that  hath  it,  or  to  standers  by. 

-  To  him  that  hath  it,  thus:  It  gives  him  conviction  of  sin, 
especially  of  the  defilement  of  his  nature  and  the  sin  of  unbe- 
lief (for  the  sake  of  which  he  is  sure  to  he  damned,  if  he 
findeth  not  mercy  at  God's  hand,  by  faith  in  Jesus  Christ.) 
(John  xvi.  8;  Rom.  vii.  24;  John  xvi.  9;  Mark  xvi.  16.) 
This  sight  and  sense  of  things  worketh  in  him  sorrow  and 
nhame  for  sin;   he  findeth,   moreover,   revealed  in  him    tho 


84  HOW   IT    IS  DISCOVERED. 

Saviour  of  the  world,  and  the  absolute  necessity  of  closing 
with  him  for  life,  at  the  which  he  lindeth  hungerings  and 
thirstings  aftar  him ;  to  which  hungerings,  etc.,  the  promise 
is  made.  (Psa.  xxxviii.  18;  Jer.  xxxi.  19;  Gal.  ii.  16;  Acts 
iv.  12;  Matt.  v.  6;  Rev.  xxi.  6.)  Now,  according  to  the 
strength  or  weakness  of  his  faith  in  his  Saviour,  so  is  his  joy 
and  peace,  so  is  his  love  to  holiness,  so  are  his  desires  to  know 
him  more,  and  also  to  serve  him  in  this  world.  But,^  though 
I  say  it  discovereth  itself  thus  unto  him,  yet  it  is  but  seldom 
that  he  is  able  toconclude  that  this  is  a  work  of  grace;  be- 
cause his  corruptions  now,  and  his  abused  reason,  make  his 
mind  to  misjudge  in  this  matter;  therefore,  in  him  that  hath 
this  work  there  is  required  a  very  sound  judgment  before  he 
can,  with  steadiness,  conclude  that  this/is  a  work  of  grace. 
To  others,  it  is  thus  discovered  :^  v 

1.  By  an  experimental  confession  of  his  faith  in  Christ. 
(Rom.  X.  10;  Phil.  i.  27;  Matt.  v.  19.) 

2.  By  a  life  answerable  to  that  confession;  to  wit,  a  life  of 
holmess,  heart-holiness,  family-holiness  (if  he  hath  a  family), 
and  by  conversation-holiness  in  the  world;  which,  in  the 
general,  teach eth  him  inwardly  to  abhor  his  sin,  and  himself 
for  that,  in  secret ;  to  suppress  it  in  his  family,  and  to  promote 
holiness  in  the  world ;  not  by  talk  only,  as  a  hypocrite  or 
talkative  person  may  do,  but  by  a  practical  subjection,  in  faith 
and  love,  to  the  power  of  the  Word.  (John  xiv.  15;  Psa.  1. 
23;  Job  xlii;  o,  6;  Ezek.  xx.  43.)  And  now,  sir,  as  to  this 
brief  description  of  the  work  of  grace,  and  also  the  discovery 
of  it,  if  you  have  aught  to  object,  object;  if  not,  then  give 
me  leave  to  propound  to  you  a  second  question. 

Talk.  Nay,  my  part  is  not  now  to  object,  but  to  hear;  let 
me  therefore  have  your  second  question. 

Faith.  It  is  this:  Do  you  experience  the  first  part  of  thi;i 
description  of  it  ?  and  doth  your  life  and  conversation  testify 
the  same  ?  or  standeth  your  religion  in  word  or  tongue,  and 
not  in  deed  and  truth  ?     Pray,  if  you  incline  to  answer  me  in 


TALKATIVE   DISPLEASED.  85 

this,  say  no  more  than  you  know  the  God  above  will  say 
Amen  to;  and  also  nothing  but  what  your  conscience  can 
justify  you  in:  "for,  not  he  that  commendeth  himself  is  ap- 
proved, but  whom  the  Lord  commendeth  "  Besides,  to  say  I 
am  thus  and  thus,  when  my  conversation  and  all  my  neigh- 
bours tell  me  I  lie,  is  great  wickedness. 

Then  Talkative  at  first  began  to  blush;  but,  recovering 
himself,  thus  he  replied  :  *' You  come  now  to  experience,  to 
conscience,  and  God ;  and  to  appeal  to  him  for  justification 
of  what  is  spoken.  This  kind  of  discourse  I  did  not  expect; 
nor  am  I  disposed  to  give  an  answer  to  such  questions,  be- 
cause I  count  not  myself  bound  thereto,  unless  you  take  upon 
you  to  be  a  catecliiser,  and,  though  you  should  so  do,  yet  I 
may  refuse  to  make  you  my  judge.  But,  I  pray,  will  you 
tell  me  why  you  ask  me  such  questions  ?  " 

Faith.  Because  I  saw  you  forward  to  talk,  and  because  I 
knew  not  that  you  had  aught  else  but  notion.  Besides,  t^ 
tell  you  all  the  truth,  I  have  heard  of  you,  that  you  are  a  man 
whose  religion  lies  in  talk,  and  that  your  conversation  gives 
this  your  mouth -profession  the  lie.  They  say  you  are  a  spot 
among  Christians:  and  that  religion  fareth  tlie  worse  for  your 
ungodly  conversation:  that  some  have  already  stumbled  at 
your  wicked  ways,  and  that  more  are  in  danger  of  being  de- 
stroyed thereby :  your  religion,  and  an  alehouse,  and  covetous- 
ness,  and  uncleanness,  and  swearing,  and  lying,  and  vain 
company-keeping,  etc.,  will  stand  together.  The  proverb  is 
true  of  you  which  is  said  of  a  whore,  to  wit,  that  she  is  a 
shame  to  all  women ;  so  you  are  a  shame  to  all  professors. 

Talk.  Since  you  are  ready  to  take  up  reports,  and  to  judge 
so  rashly  as  yo%ido,  I  cannot  but  conclude  you  are  some  peev- 
ish or  melancholy  man,  not  fit  to  be  discoursed  with,  and  so 
adieu. 

Then  came  up  Christian  and  said  to  his  brother,  ''I  told 
you  how  it  would  happen.  Your  words  and  his  lusts  could 
not  %gree;  he  had  rather  leave  your  company  than  reform  his 


86  HEART-WORK. 

life.  But  he  is  gone,  as  I  said.  Let  him  go;  the  loss  is  nci 
man's  but  his  own.  He  has  saved  us  the  trouble  of  go  n^ 
from  him ;  for  he  continuing  (as  X  suppose  he  will  do)  as  he 
is,  he  would  have  been  but  a  blot  in  our  company :  besides, 
the  Apostle  says,  '  From  such  withdraw  thyself.'  " 

Faith.  But  I  am  glad  we  liad  this  little  discourse  with  him: 
it  may  happeif  that  he  will  think  of  it  again :  however,  I  have 
dealt  plainly  with  him,  and  so  am  clear  of  his  blood,  if  he 
perish  eth. 

Chr.  You  did  well  to  talk  so  plainly  to  him  as  you  did ; 
there  is  but  little  of  this  faithful  dealing  with  men  now-a- 
days,  and  that  makes  religion  to  stink  oo  in  the  nostrils  of 
many,  as  it  doth;  for  they  are  these  talkative  fools  whose  re- 
ligion is  only  in  words,  and  are  debauched  and  vain  in  their 
conversation,  that  (being  so  much  admitted  into  the  fellow- 
ship of  the  godly)  do  puzzle  the  world,  blemish  Christianity, 
and  grieve  the  sincere.  I  wish  that  all  men  would  deal  with 
such  as  you  have  done;  then  should  they  either  be  made  more 
conformable  to  religion,  or  the  company  of  saints  would  be 
too  hot  for  them. 

Then  did  Faithful  say— 

*  How  Talkative  at  first  lifts  up  his  plumes  ! 
How  bravely  doth  he  speak  !     How  he  presumes 
To  drive  down  all  before  him  !     But  so  soon 
As  Faithful  talks  of  heart-work,  like  the  moon 
That's  past  the  full   into  the  wane  he  goes. 
And  so  will  all  but  he  that  heart- work  knows." 

Thus  they  went  on  talking  of  what  they  had  seen  by  the 
way;  and  so  made  that  way  easy  which  would  otherwise,  no 
doubt,  have  been  tedious  to  them,  for  now  they  went  through 
»•  wilderness. 

Now  when  they  were  got  almost  quite  out  of  this  wilder- 
ness. Faithful  chanced  to  cast  his  eye  back,  and  espied  one 
coming  after  them,  and  he  knew  him.  "  Oh  !  "  said  Faithful 
to  his  brother,  ''who  comes  yonder  ? ''     Then  Christian  look 


EVANGELIST  ENCOURAGES   THEM.  87 

ed,  and  said,  "It  is  my  good  friend  Evangelist."  "Ay^  and 
my  good  friend,  too,"  said  Faithful,  "  for  it  was  he  that  set 
me  the  way  to  the  gate."  Now  was  Evangelist  come  to  them, 
and  thus  saluted  them : 

"  Peace  be  with  you,  dearly  beloved;  and  peace  be  to  your 
helpers.  " 

Chr.  Welcome,  welcome,  my  good  Evangelist;  the  .sight  of 
thy  countenance  brings  to  my  remembrance  thy  ancient  kind- 
ness and  unwearied  labouring  for  my  eternal  good. 

"And  a  thousand  times  welcome,"  said  good  Faithful; 
"thy  company,  O  sweet  Evangelist,  how  desirable  it  is  to  us 
poor  pilgrims! " 

Then  said  Evangelist,  "  How  hath  it  fared  with  you,  my 
friends,  since  the  time  of  our  last  parting  ?  What  have  you 
met  with,  and  how  have  you  behaved  yourselves  ? " 

Then  Christian  and  Faithful  told  him  of  all  things  that  had 
happened  to  them  in  the  way;  and  how  and  with  what  diffi- 
culty tlicy  had  arrived  to  that  place. 

"Right  glad  ami,"  said  Evangelist,  "not  that  you  have 
met  with  trials,  but  that  you  have  been  victors,  and  for  that 
you  have  (notwithstanding  many  weaknesses)  continued  in 
the  way  to  this  very  day.  I  say,  right  glad  am  I  of  this  thing, 
and  that  for  mine  own  sake  and  yours.  I  have  sowed  and 
you  have  reaped ;  and  the  day  is  coming  when  '  both  he  that 
sowed  and  they  that  reaped  shall  rejoice  together;  '  that  is,  if 
you  hold  out:  'for  in  due  season  ye  shall  reap,  if  ye  faint 
not.'  (John  iv.  36;  Gal.  vi.  9.)  The  crown  is  before  you, 
and  it  is  an  incorruptible  one ;  *  ?o  run,  that  you  may  obtain 
it.'  (1  Cor.  ix.  24-27.)  Some  tliere  be  that  set  out  for  this 
crown,  and  after  they  have  gone  far  for  it,  another  comes  in- 
and  takes  it  from  them:  hold  fast,  therefore,  that  you  have; 
let  no  man  take  your  crown.  (Rev.  iii.  11.)  You  are  not 
yet  out  of  the  gun-shot  of  the  devil ;  you  have  not  resisted 
unto  blood,  striving  against  sin;  let  the  kingdom  be  always 
before  you,  and  believe  steadfastly  concerning  things  that  aire 


88  EVANGELIST  FORETELLS  OF  TRIALS. 

inyisible.  Let  nothing  that  is  on  this  side  the  other  world 
get  within  you ;  arjd,  above  all,  look  well  to  your  own  hearts, 
and  to  the  lusts  thereof,  '  for  they  are  deceitful  above  all 
things,  and  desperately  wicked.'  Set  your  faces  like  a  flint; 
you  have  all  power  in  heaven  and  earth  on  youi'  side.'' 
I  Then  Christian  thanked  him  for  his  exhortation;  but  told 
liim,  wijthal,  that  they  would  have  him  speak  further  to  thcpa 
for  their  help  the  rest  of  the  way ;  and  the  rather,  for  that 
they  well  knew  that  he  was  a  prophet,  and  could  tell  them 
of  things  that  might  happen  unto  them,  and  also  how  they 
might  resist  an(3  overcome  them.  To  which  request  Faithful 
also  consented.  So  Evangelist  began  as  foUoweth : 
"^  ''My  sons,  you  have  heard  in  the  words  of  the  truth  of  the 
gospel,  that  you  must  through  many  tribulations  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaven.  And  again,  that  in  every  city  bonds  and 
afflictions  abide  you ;  and  therefore  you  cannot  expect  that  you 
should  go  long  on  your  pilgrimage  without  them,  in  some 
sort  or  other.  You  have  found  something  of  the  truth  of 
these  testimonies  upon  you  already,  and  more  will  immediate- 
ly follow :  for  now,  as  you  see,  you  are  almost  out  of  this  wil- 
derness, and  therefore  you  will  soon  come  into  a  town  that 
you  will  by  and  by  see  before  you ;  and  in  that  town  you  will 
be  hardly  beset  with  enemies,  who  will  strain  hard  but  they 
will  kill  you ;  and  be  you  sure  that  one  or  both  of  you  must  seal 
the  testimony  which  you  now  hold  with  blood;  but  be 
you  faithful  unto  death,  and  the  King  will  give  you  a  crown 
of  life.  He  that  shall  die  there,  although  his  death  will  he 
unnatural,  and  his  pain  pei'haps  great,  he  will  yet  have  the 
better  of  his  fellow ;  not  only  because  he  will  be  arrived  at 
the  Celestial  City  soonest,  but  because  he  will  escape  many 
miseries  that  the  other  will  meet  with  in  the  rest  of  his  jour- 
ney. But  when  you  are  come  to  the  town,  and  shall  find  ful- 
filled what  I  have  here  related,  then  remember  your  friend, 
and  quit  yourselves  like  men,  and- commit  the  keeping  of  your 
souls  to  your  God  'in  well-doing,'  as  unto  a  faithful  Cre* 
ator.'^ 


VANITY  FAIR.  89 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  when  they  were  got  ont  of 
the  wilderness,  they  presently  saw  a  town  before  them,  and 
the  name  of  that  town  is  Vanity ;  and  at  the  town  there  is  a 
fair  kept,  called  Vanity  Fair.  It  is  kept  all  the  year  long;  it 
beareth  the  name  of  Vanity  Fair  because  the  town  where  it  is- 
ke^Dt  is  lighter  than  vanity;  and  also  because  all  that  is  there 
sQld,  or  that  cometh  thither,  is  vanity.  As  is  the  saying  of 
the  wise,  "All  that  cometh  is  vanity."  (Eccles.  xii.  14;  ii. 
11,  17;  Isa.  xl.  17.) 

Tins  fair  is  no  new-erected  business,  but  a  thing  of  ancient 
standing;  I  will  show  you  the  original  of  it. 

Almost  ^ve  thousand  years  agone,  there  were  pilgrims  walk- 
ing to  the  Celestial  City  as  these  two  honest  persons  are ;  and 
Beelzebub,  Ayollyon,  and  Legion,  with  their  companions, 
perceiving  by  the  path  that  the  pilgrims  made,  that  their  way 
to  the  city  lay  through  this  town  of  Vanity,  they  contrived 
here  to  set  up  a  fair,  a  fair  wherein  should  be  sold  all  sorts  of 
vanity,  and  that  it  should  last  all  the  year  long;  therefore  at 
this  fair  are  all  such  merchandise  Sv.ld,  as  houses,  lands, 
trades,  places,  lionours,  preferments,  titles,  countries,  king- 
doms, lu&ts,  pleasures,  and  delights  of  all  sorts,  as  whores, 
bawds,  wives,  husbands,  children,  masters,  servants,  lives, 
blood,  bodies,  souls,  silver,  gold,  pearls,  precious  stones,  and 
what  not.  And,  moreover,  at  this  fair  there  is  at  all  times  to 
be  seen  juggimg,  cheats,  games,  plays,  fools,  apes,  knaves, 
and  rogues,  i^nd  that  of  every  kind.  Here  arc  to  be  seen,  too, 
and  that  for  nothing,  thefts,  murders,  adulteries,  false  swear- 
ers, and  that  of  a  blood-red  colour. 

And  as  in  other  fairs  of  less  moment  tljere  are  the  several 
rows  and  streets,  under  their  proper  names,  where  such  and 
such  wares  are  vended;  so  here  likewise  you  have  the  proper 
places,  rows,  streets  (namely,  countries  and  kingdoms),  where 
the  wares  of  this  fair  arc  soonest  to  be  found.  Here  is  the 
Britain  Row,  the  French  Row,  the  Italian  Row,  the  Spanish 
Row,   the    German    Bow,    where    several    sorts    of    vamtiei 


90  THE  PILGRIMS  ENTER  THE  FAIR. 

arc  to  be  sold.  But  as  iu  other  fairs  some  one  commodity  ia 
as  the  chief  of  all  the  fair,  so  the  ware  of  Rome  and  her  mer- 
chandise is  greatly  promoted  in  this  fair;  only  our  English 
nation,  with  some  others,  have  taken  a  dislike  thereat. 
•  Now,  as  I  said,  the  way  to  the  Celestial  City  lies  just 
through  this  town  where  this  lusty  fair  is  kept;  and  he  that 
will  go  to  the  city,  and  yet  not  go  through  this  town,  must 
needs  '*  go  out  of  the  world."  (1  Cor  v.  10.)  The  Prince  of 
princes  liimself,  when  here,  went  through  this  town  to  his 
own  countiy,  and  that  upon  a  fair  day  too ;  yea,  and  as  I 
think,  it  was  Beelzebub,  the  chief  lord  of  this  fair,  that  in- 
vited him  to  buy  of  his  vanities;  yea,  would  have  made  him 
lord  of  the  fair,  would  he  but  have  done  him  reverence  as  he 
went  through  the  town.  (Matt,  iv,  8;  Luke  iv.  5-7.)"  Yea,  be- 
cause he  was  such  a  person  of  honour,  Beelzebub  had  him 
from  street  to  street,  and  showed  him  all  the  kingdoms  of  the 
world  in  a  little  time,  that  he  might  (if  possible)  allure  the 
Blessed  One  to  cheapen  and  buy  some  of  his  vanities;  but  he 
had  no  mind  to  the  mcrcliaudise,  and  therefore  left  the  town, 
without  laying  out  so  much  as  one  farthing  upon  these  vani- 
ties. This  fair,  therefore,  is  an  ancient  thing,  of  long  stand- 
ing, and  a  very  great  fair. 

Now  these  pilgrims,  as  I  said,  must  needs  go  through  this 
fair.  -Yf ell,  so  they  did:  but,  behold  !  even  as  they  entered 
into  the  fair,  all  the  people  in  the  fair  were  moved,  and  the 
town  itself  as  it  were  in  a  hubbub  about  them ;  and  that  for 
several  reasons :  for — 

First,  the  pilgrims  were  clothed  with  such  kind  of  raiment 
as  was  diverse  froiji  the  raiment  of  any  that  traded  in  that 
fair.  The  people,  therefore,  of  the  fair  made  a  great  gazing 
upon  them :  some  said  they  were  fools,  some  they  were  bed- 
lams, and  some  they  were  outlandish  men.   (1  Cor.  ii.  7^  8.) 

Secondly,  and  as  they  wondered  at  their  apparel,  so  they 
did  likewise  at  their  speech ;  for  few  could  understand  what 
they  said :  they  naturally  spoke  the  language  of  Canaan,  lat 


THE  PILGRIMS  EXAMINED.  91 

*-hey  that  kept  the  fair  were  the  men  of  this  world;  so  that, 
froiii  one  end  of  the  fair  to  the  other,  they  seemed  barbarians 
each  to  the  other. 

^^lirdly,  but  that  which  did  not  a  little  amuse  the  mer- 
chandisers  was,  that  these  pilgrims  set  very  light  by  all  their 
wares ;  they  cared  not  so  much  as  to  look  upon  them ;  and  if 
they  called  upon  them  to  buy,  they  would  put  their  fingers  m 
their  ears,  and  cry,  "Turn  away  mine  eyes  from  beholding 
vanity,"  and  look  upwards,  signifying  that  their  trade  anc^ 
traffic  was  in  heaven:     (Psa.  cxix.  o7  ;  Phil.  iii.  20.) 

One  chanced  mockingly,  beholding  the  carriage  of  the  men, 
to  say  unto  them,  "What  will  ye  buy  ?  "  But  they,  looking 
gravely  upon  him,  said,  '*We  buy  the  truth."  (Prov.  xxiii. 
23. )  At  that  there  was  an  occasion  taken  to  despise  the  men 
the  more;  some  mocking,  some  taunting,  some  speaking  re- 
proachfully, and  some  calling  upon  others  to  smite  them.  At 
last  things  came  to  a  hubbub  and  great  stir  in  the  fair,  inso- 
much that  all  order  was  confounded.  Now  was  word  pres- 
ently brought  to  the  great  one  of  the  fair,  who  quickly  came 
down,  and  deputed  some  of  his  most  trusty  friends  to  take 
these  men  into  examination,  about  whom  the  fair  was  almost 
overturned.  So  the  men  were  brought  to  examination,  and 
they  that  sat  upon  them  asked  them  whence  they  came, 
whither  they  went,  and  wliat  they  did  there  in  such  an  unusual 
garb.  The  men  told  them  that  they  were  pilgrims  and 
strangers  in  the  world,  and  that  they  were  going  to  their  own 
country,  which  was  the  heavenly  Jerusalem  (Heb.  xi.  13-10), 
and  that  they  had  given  no  occasion  to  the  men  of  the  town, 
nor  yet  to  the  merchandisers,  thus  to  abuse  them,  and  to  let* 
them  in  their  journey;  except  it  was  for  that,  when  one  asked 
them  what  they  would  buy,  they  said  they  would  buy.,  the 
truth.  But  they  that  were  appointed  to  examine  them  did 
not  believe  them  to  be  any  other  than  bedlair.s  and  mad,  or 
else  such  as  came  to  put  all  things  into  a  confusion  in  the  fair. 

"  *ninclcr. 


92  CONDUCT  OF  THE  PILGRIMS. 

Therefore  they  took  them  and  beat  them,  and  besmeared  them 
with  dirt,  and  then  put  them  into  the  cage,  that  they  might 
be  made  a  spectacle  to  all  the  men  of  the  fair.  There,  there- 
fore, they  lay  for  some  time,  and  were  made  the  objects  of 
any  man's  sport,  or  malace,  or  revenge ;  the  great  one  of  the 
fair  laughing  still  at  all  that  befell  them.  But  the  men  being 
patient,  and  not  rendering  railing  for  railing,  but  contrari- 
wise, blessing,  and  giving  good  words  forbad,  and  kindness 
for  injuries  done,  some  men  in  the  fair,  that  were  more  ob- 
serving and  less  prejudiced  than  the  rest,  began  to  check  and 
blame  the  baser  sort  for  their  continual  abuses  done  by  them 
to  the  men.  They,  therefore,  in  an  angry  manner,  let  fly  at 
them  again,  counting  them  as  bad  as  the  men  in  the  cage, 
and  telling  them  that  they  seemed  confederates,  and  should 
be  made  partakers  of  their  misfortunes.  The  others  replied 
that  for  aught  they  could  see,  the  men  were  quiet  and  sober, 
and  intended  nobody  any  harm ;  and  that  there  were  many 
that  traded  in  their  fair  that  were  more  worthy  to  be  put  into 
the  cage,  yea,  and  pillory  too,  than  were  the  men  they  had 
abused.  Thus,  after  divers  words  had  passed  on  both  sides 
(the  men  behaving  themselves  all  the  while  very  wisely  and 
soberly  before  them),  they  fell  to  some  blows  among  them- 
selves, and  did  harm  one  to  another.  Then  were  these  two 
poor  men  brought  before  their  examiners  again,  and  there 
charged  as  being  guilty  of  the  late  hubbub  that  had  been  in 
the  fair.  So  they  beat  them  pitifully,  and  hanged  irons  upon 
them,  and  led  them  in  chains  up  and  down  the  fair,  for  an 
example  and  a  terror  to  others,  lest  any  should  speak  in  their 
behalf,  or  join  themselves  unto  them.  But  Christian  and 
Faithful  behaved  themselves  yet  more  wisely,  and  received 
the  ignominy  and  shame  that  was  cast  upon  them,  with  so 
much  meekness  and  patience  that  it  won  to  their  side  (though 
but  few  in  comparison  of  the  rest)  several  of  the  men  in  the 
fair.  This  put  the  other  party  yet  into  a  greater  rage,  inso- 
much that  they  concluded    the    death    of    these  two    men. 


FAITHFUL'S  ANSWER.  93 

Wherefore  they  threatened  that  the  cage  nor  irons  should  serve 
their  turn,  but  that  they  should  die,  for  the  abuse  they  had 
done,  and  for  deluding  the  men  of  the  fair. 

Then  were  they  remanded  to  the  cage  again,  until  further 
order  should  be  taken  with  them.  So  they  put  them  in,  and 
made  their  feet  fast  in  the  stocks. 

Here,  therefore,  they  called  again  to  mind  what  they  had 
heard  from  their  faithful  friend  Evangelist,  and  were  the 
more  confirmed  in  their  way  and  sufferings  by  what  he  told 
them  would  happen  to  them.  They  also  comforted  each  other, 
that  whose  lot  it  was  to  suffer,  even  he  should  have  the  best 
of  it;  therefore,  each  man  secretly  wished  that  he  might  have 
that  preferment :  but  committing  themselves  to  the  all-wise 
disposal  of  Him  that  ruleth  all  things,  with  much  content 
they  abode  in  the  condition  in  which  they  were,  until  they 
should  bo  otherwise  disposed  of. 

Then  a  convenient  time  being  appointed,  they  brought 
them  forth  to  their  trial,  in  order  to  their  condemnation. 
When  the  time  was  come,  they  were  brought  before  their  en- 
emies and  arraigned.  The  judge's  name  was  Lord  Hate-good. 
Their  indictment  was  one  and  the  same  in  substance,  though 
somewhat  varying  in  form;  the  contents  whereof  were  these: 

*'That  they  were  enemies  to  and  disturbers  of  their  trade; 
that  they  had  made  commotions  and  divisions  in  the  town, 
and  had  won  a  party  to  their  own  most  dangerous  opinions,  in 
contempt  of  the  law  of  their  prince." 

Then  Faithful  began  to  answer,  that  he  had  only  set  himself 
against  that  which  had  set  itself  against  Him  that  is  higher 
than  the  highest.  '*And,"  said  he,  "as  for  disturbance,  I 
make  none,  being  myself  a  man  of  peace;  the  parties  that 
were  won  to  us  were  won  by  beholding  our  tijuth  and  inno- 
cence, and  they  are  only  turned  from  the  worse  to  the  better. 
And  as  to  the  king  you  talk  of,  since  he  is  Beelzebub,  the 
enemy  of  our  Lord,  I  defy  him  and  all  his  angels." 

Then  proclamation  was  made,  that  they  that  had  aught  to  say 


94  ENVY'S  ACCUSATION. 

for  tlieirlord  the  king,  against  the  prisoner  at  the  bar,  should 
forthwith  appear  and  give  in  their  evidence.  So  there  came 
in  three  witnesses,  to  wit,  Envy,  Superstition,  and  Picktliank. 
They  were  then  asked  if  they  knew  the  prisoner  at  the  bar, 
and  what  they  had  to  say  for  their  lord  the  king  against  him. 

Then  stood  forth  Envy,  and  said  to  this  effect:  ''My  lord, 
I  have  known  this  man  a  long  time,  and  will  attest  upon  my 
oath  before  tliis  honourable  bench  that  he  is  " — 

Judge.  Hold!     Give  him  his  oath. 

So  tiiey  sware  him.  Then  he  said,  "My  lord,  this  man, 
notwithstanding  his  plausible  name,  is  one  of  the  vilest  men 
in  our  country.  He  neither  regardeth  prince  nor  people,  law 
nor  custom;  but  doth  all  that  he  can  to  possess  all  men  with 
certain  of  his  disloyal  notions,  which  he  in  the  general  calls 
principles  of  faith  and  holiness.  And,  in  particular,  I  heard 
him  once  myself  aflSrm^  that  Christianity  and  the  customs  of 
our  town  of  Vanity  were  diametrically  opposite,  and  could  not 
be  reconciled.  By  which  saying,  my  lord,  he  doth  at  once  not 
only  condemn  all  our  laudable  doings,  but  us  in  the  doing  of 
them." 

Then  did  the  judge  say  to  him,  "Hast  thou  anymore  to 
say." 

Envy.  My  lord,  I  could  say  much  more,  only  I  would  not 
be  tedious  to  the  court.  Yet,  if  need  be,  when  the  other 
gentlemen  have  given  in  their  evidence,  rather  than  anything 
shall  be  wanting  that  will  dispatch  him,  I  will  enlarge  my 
testimony  against  him. 

So  he  was  bid  to  stand  by.  Then  they  called  Superstition, 
and  bid  him  look  upon  the  prisoner.  They  also  asked  what 
he  could  say  for  their  lord  the  king  against  him.  Then  they 
sware  him ;  so  he  began : 

"My  lord,  I  have  no  great  acquaintance  with  this  man,  nor 
do  I  desire  to  have  further  knowledge  of  him;  however,  this 
I  know,  that  he  is  a  very  pestilent  fellow,  from  some  discourse 
that  the  other  day  I  had  with  him  in  this  town;  for  then  talk- 


PICKTHxiNK'S  TALE.  95 

ing  with  him,  I  heard  him  say  that  our  religion  was  naught, 
and  such  by  which  a  man  could  by  no  means  please  God : 
which  saying  of  his,  my  lord,  your  lordship  very  well  knows 
what  necessarily  thence  will  follow,  to  wit,  that  wc  do  still 
worship  in  vain,  are  yet  in  our  sins,  and  finally  shall  be 
damned  ;  and  this  is  that  which  I  have  to  say." 

Then  was  Pickthank  sworn,  and  bid  say  what  he  knew  in 
fcehalf  of  their  lord  and  king,  against  the  prisoner  at  the  bar. 

*'My  lord,  and  you  gentlemen  all,  this  fellow  I  have  known 
of  a  long  time,  and  have  heard  him  speak  things  that  ought 
not  to  be  spoke ;  for  he  hath  railed  on  our  noble  prince  Beelze- 
bub, and  hath  spoken  contemptibly  of  his  honourable  friends, 
whose  names  are  the  Lord  Old  Man,  the  Lord  Carnal  Delight, 
the  Lord  Luxurious,  the  Lord  Desire  of  Vain  Glory,  my  old 
Lord  Lechery,  Sir  Having  Greedy,  with  all  the  rest  of  our 
nobility;  and  he  hath  said,  moreover,  'That if  all  men  were 
of  his  mind,  if  possible,  there  is  not  one  of  these  noblemen 
should  have  any  longer  a  being  in  this  town.'  Besides,  h3 
hath  not  been  afraid  to  rail  on  you,  my  lord,  who  are  now  ap- 
pointed to  be  his  judge,  calling  you  an  ungodly  villain,  with 
many  other  such  like  vilifying  terms,  Avith  which  he  hath  Ioq- 
spattered  most  of  the  gentry  of  our  town. 

When  this  Pickthank  had  told  his  tale,  the  judge  directed 
his  speech  to  the  prisoner  at  the  bar,  saying,  "  Thou  runagate, 
heretic,  and  traitor,  hast  thou  heard  what  these  honest  gentle- 
men have  witnessed  against  thee  ?  " 

Faith.  May  I  speak  a  few  words  in  my  own  defence  ? 

Judge.  Sirrah  !  Sirrah  !  thou  deservest  to  live  no  longer, 
but  to  be  slain  immediately  upon  the  place ;  yet,  that  all  men 
may  see  our  gentleness  towards  thee,  let  us  hear  what  thou, 
vile  runagate,  hast  to  say. 

Faith.  1.  I  say  then,  in  answer  to  what  Mr.  Envy  hath 
spoken,  I  never  said  auglit  but  this.  That  what  rule,  or  laws, 
or  customs,  or  people  were  flat  against  the  Word  of  God  are 
diametrically  opposite  to  Christianity.     If  I  have  said  amiss 


96  "The  charge  to  the  jury. 

in  this,  convince  me  of  my  error,  and  I  am  ready  here  before 
you  to  make  my  recantation. 

2.  As  to  the  second,  to  wit,  Mr.  Superstition,  and  his  charge 
against  me,  I  said  only  this.  That  in  the  worship  of  God  there 
is  required  a  divine  faith ;  but  there  can  be  no  divine  faith 
withont  a  divine  revelation  of  the  will  of  God.  Therefore, 
whatever  is  thrust  into  the  worship  of  God,  that  is  not  agreea- 
ble to  divine  revelation,  cannot  be  done  but  by  a  human  faith, 
which  faith  will  not  be  profitable  to  eternal  life. 

3.  As  to  what  Mr.  Pickthank  hath  said,  I  say  (avoiding 
terms,  as  that  I  am  said  to  rail,  and  the  like),  that  the  prince 
of  this  town,  with  all  tlie  rabblemcnt,  his  attendants,  by  this 
gentleman  named,  are  more  fit  for  being  in  hell  than  in  this 
town  and  country:  and  so  the  Lord  have  mercy  upon  me  ! 

Then  the  judge  called  to  the  jury  (who  all  this  while  stood 
by  to  hear  and  observe) :  "Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  you  see  this 
man  about  whom  so  great  an  uproar  hath  been  made  in  this 
town  ;  you  have  also  heard  what  these  worthy  gentlemen  have 
witnessed  against  him:  also  you  have  heard  his  reply  and  con- 
fession. It  lieth  now  in  your  breasts  to  liang  him  or  save  his 
life ;  but  yet  I  think  meet  to  instruct  you  into  our  law. 

''  There  was  an  act  made  in  the  days  of  Pharaoh  the  Great, 
servant  to  our  prince,  that  lest  those  of  a  contrary  religion 
should  multiply  and  grow  too  strong  for  him,  their  males 
should  be  thrown  into  the  river.  (Ex.  i.)  There  was  also  an 
act  made  in  the  days  of  Nebuchadnezzar  the  Great,  another 
of  his  servants,  that  whosoever  would  not  fall  down  and  wor- 
ship his  golden  image  should  be  thrown  into  a  fiery  furnace. 
(Dan.  iii.)  There  was  also  an  act  made  in  the  days  of  Darius, 
that  whoso,  for  some  time,  called  upon  any  god  but  him, 
should  be  cast  into  the  lions'  den.  (Dan.  vi.)  Now  the  sub^ 
stance  of  these  laws  this  rebel  has  broken,  not  only  in  thougl  t 
(which  is  not  to  be  borne),  but  also  in  word  and  deed ;  which 
must  therefore  needs  be  intolerable. 

*'For  that  of  Pharaoh,  his  law  was  made  upon  a  supposi- 


1^-' 


''FAITHFUL  UNTO  DEATH."  97 

tion,  to  prevent  mischief,  no  crime  being  yet  apparent ;  but 
here  is  a  crime  apparent.  For  the  second  and  third,  you  see 
he  disputeth  against  our  religion ;  and  for  the  treason  he  hath 
confessed,  he  deserveth  to  die  the  death." 

Then  weut  the  jury  out,  whose  names  were  Mr.  Blind-man, 
Mr.  No-good,  Mr.  Malice,  Mr.  Love-lust,  Mr.  Live-loose,  Mr. 
Heady,  Mr.  High-mind,  Mr.  Enmity,  Mr.  Liar,  Mr.  Cruelty, 
Mr.  Hate-light,  and  Mr.  Implacable,  who  every  one  gave  la 
his  private  verdict  against  him  among  themselves,  and  after- 
wards unanimously  concluded  to  bring  him  in  guilty  before 
the  judge.  And  first,  among  themselves,  Mr.  Blind-man,  the 
foreman,  said,  "I  see  clearly  that  this  man  is  a  heretic." 
Then  sajd  Mr.  No-good,  *'  Away  with  such  a  fellow  from  the 
earth. '^  ''Ay,"  said  Mr.  Malice,  "for  I  hate  the  very  looks 
of  him."  Then  said  Mr.  Love-lust,  ''  I  could  never  endure 
him."  "Nor  I,"  said  Mr.  Live-loose,  "for  he  would  always 
be  condemning  my  way."  "  Hang  him,  hang  him,"  said  Mr. 
Heady.  "A  sorry  scrub,"  said  Mr.  High-mind.  'My  heart 
riseth  against  him,"  said  Mr.  Enmity.  "  He  is  a  rogue,"  said 
Mr.  Liar.  "  Hanging  is  too  good  for  him,"  said  Mr.  Cruelty. 
"  Let's  despatch  him  out  of  the  way,"  said  Mr.  Hate-light. 
Then  said  Mr.  Implacable,  "Might  I  have  all  the  world  given 
me,  I  could  not  be  reconciled  to  him;  therefore  let  us  forth- 
with bring  him  in  guilty  of  death."  And  so  they  did;  there- 
fore he  was  presently  condemned  to  be  had  from  the  place 
where  he  was  to  the  place  from  whence  he  came,  and  there  xo 
be  put  to  the  most  cruel  death  that  could  be  invented. 

They  therefore  brought  him  out,  to  do  with  him  according  to 
their  law;  and  first  they  scourged  him,  then  they  buffeted  him,, 
then  they  lanced  his  flesh  with  knives;  after  that  they  stoned 
him  with  stones,  then  pricked  him  with  their  swords ;  and, 
last  of  all,  chey  burned  him  to  ashes  at  the  stake.  Thus  came 
Faithful  to  his  end. 

Now  I  saw  that  there  stood  behind  the  multitude  a  chariot 

and  a  couple  of  horses,  waiting  for  Faithful,  who  (so  soon  as 
p.  r.-4. 


98  A  NEW  COMPANION. 

his  adversaries  had  despatched  him)  was  taken  up  into  it,  and 
straightway  was  carried  up  through  the  clouds,  with  sound 
of  trumpet,  the  nearest  way  to  the  Celestial  Gate.  . 

But  as  for  Christian,  he  had  some  respite,  and  was  remand- 
ed back  to  prison.  So  he  there  remained  for  a  space ;  but  He 
that  overrules  all  things,  having  the  power  of  their  rage  in 
I  his  own  hand,  so  wrought  it  about  that  Christian  for  that 
jtimc  escaped  them,  and  went  his  way.  And  as  he  went,  h^ 
sang,  saying — 

*'  Well,  Faithful,  thou  hast  faithfully  professed 
Unto  thy  Lord  ;  with  whom  thou  shalt  bo  bless'd^ 
When  faithless  ones,  with  all  their  vain  delights, 
Are  crying  out  under  their  hellish  plights  : 
Sing,  Faithful,  sing,  and  let  thy  name  survive  ; 
For,  though  they  killed  thee,  thou  art  yet  alive." 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  Christian  went  lot  forth 
alone ;  for  there  was  one  whose  name  was  Hopeful  (being 
made  so  by  the  beholding  of  Christian  and  Faithful  "in  their 
words  and  behaviour,  in  their  sufferings  at  the  fair),  wlio 
joined  himself  unto  him,  aud  entering  into  a  brotherly  cov- 
enant, told  him  that  he  would  be  his  companion.  Thus,  one 
died  to  bear  testimony  to  the  truth,  and  another  rises  out  of 
his  ashes  to  be  a  companion  with  Christian  in  his  pilgrimage. 
•  This  Hopeful  also  told  Christian  that  there  were  many  more 
of  the  ru^nin  the  fair  that  would  take  their  time  and  follow 
after^j^^^ 

t'l  saw  that  quickly  after  they  were  got  out  of  the  fair, 
[ley  overtook  one  that  was  going  before  them,  whose  name 
was  By-ends:  so  they  said  to  him  '*What  countryman,  sir? 
And  how  far  go  you  this  way  ?"  He  told  them  that  he  cams 
from  the  town  of  Fair-speech,  and  he  was^oing  to  the  Celes- 
tial City,  but  told  them  not  his  name. 

^'From  Fair-speech!  "  said  Christian.     "Is  there  any  good 
jfiat  lives  there  ?  "     (Prov.  xxvi.  35.) 

'*  Yes,"  said  By-ends,  '*I  hope." 


BY-ENDS*   RELATIONS.  99 

*'Pray,  sir,  what  may  I  call  you,"  said  Christian. 

By-ends.  I  am  a  stranger  to  you,  and  you  to  me :  if  you 
be  going  this  way,  I  shall  be  glad  of  your  company;  if  not,  I 
must  be  content. 

"This town  of  Fair-speech,"  said  Christian,  "I  have  heard 
of;  and,  as  I  remember,  they  say  it  is  a  wealthy  place." 

By-ends.  Yes,  I  will  assure  you  that  it  is ;  and  I  have  ver 
many  rich  kindred  there. 

Chr.  Pray,  who  are  your  kindred  there  ?  if  a  man  may  be 
so  bold. 

By-ends.  Almost  the  whole  town;  and,  in  particular,  my 
Lord  Turn-about,  my  Lord  Time-server,  my  Lord  Fair-speech 
(from  whose  ancestors  that  town  first  took  its  name),  also  Mr. 
Smooth-man,  Mr.  Facing-both-ways,  Mr.  Anything:  and  the 
parson  of  our  parish,  Mr.  Two-tongues,  was  my  mother's  own 
brother  by  father's  side ;  and,  to  tell  you  tlie  truth,  I  am  be- 
come a  gentleman  of  good  quality,  yet  my  great  grandfather 
was  but  a  waterman,  looking  one  way  and  rowing  another; 
and  I  got  most  of  my  estate  by  the  same  occupation. 

Chr.  Are  you  a  married  man  ? 

By-ends.  Yes,  and  my  wife  is  a  very  virtuous  woman,  the 
daughter  of  a  virtuous  woman:  she  was  my  Lady  Feign- 
ing's  daughter;  therefore  she  came  of  a  very  honourable 
family,  and  is  ariived  to  such  a  pitch  of  breeding,  that  she 
knows  how  to  carry  it  to  all,  even  to  prince  and  peasant. 
It  is  true  we  somewhat  differ  in  religion  from  those  of 
the  stricter  sort,  yet  but  in  two  small  points:  we  never 
strive  against  wmd  and  tide;  secondly  we  are  always  most 
zealous  when  religion  goes  in  his  silv6r  slippers:  we  love 
much  to  walk  with  him  in  the  streets,  if  the  sun  shines,  and 
the  people  applaud  him. 

Then  Christian  stepped  a  little  aside  to  his  fellow.  Hopeful, 
saying,  "  It  runs  in  my  mind  that  this  is  one  By-ends,  of  Fair- 
speech  ;  and  if  it  be  he,  we  have  as  very  a  knave  in  our  com- 
pany as  dwelleth  in  all  these  parts."  Then  said  Hopeful, 
*'  Ask  him;  methinks  he  should  not  be  ashamed  of  his  nama" 


100  HOW   BY-ENDS  GOT   HIS  NAME. 

So  Christian  came  up  with  him  again,  and  said,  "  Sir,  you 
talk  as  if  you  knew  something  more  than  all  the  world  doth; 
and,  if  I  take  not  my  mark  amiss,  I  deem  I  have  half  a  guess 
of  you.     Is  not  your  name  Mr.  By-ends,  of  Fair-speech  ?  " 

By-ends.  This  is  not  my  name,  but  indeed  it  is  a  nickname 
that  is  given  me  by  some  that  cannot  al)ide  me ;  and  I  must 
be  content  to  bear  it  as  a  reproach,  as  other  good  men  havf 
borne  theirs  before  me. 

Chr.  But  did  you  never  give  an  occasion  to  men  to  call 
you  by  this  name  ? 

By-ends.  Never,  never!  The  worst  that  ever  T  did  to  give 
them  an  occasion  to  give  me  this  name  was,  that  I  had  al- 
ways the  luck  to  jump  in  my  judgment  with  the  present  way 
of  the  times,  whatever  it  was,  and  my  chance  was  to  get 
thereby;  but  if  things  are  thus  cast  upon  me,  let  me  count 
them  a  blessing,  but  let  not  the  malicious  load  me  therefore 
with  reproach. 

Chr.  I  thought,  indeed,  that  you  were  the  man  that  I  heard 
of;  and,  to  tell  you  what  I  think,  I  fear  this  name  belongs  to 
you  more  properly  than  you  are  willing  we  should  think  it 
doth. 

By-ends.  Well,  if  you  will  thus  imagine,  I  cannot  help  it. 
You  shall  find  me  a  fair  company-keeper,  if  you  will  still  ad- 
mit me  your  associate. 

Chr.  If  you  will  go  with  us,  you  must  go  against  wind  and 
tide:  the  which,  T  perceive,  is  against  your  opinion;  you 
must  also  own  religion  in  his  rags,  as  well  as  when  in  his 
silver  slippers ;  and  stand  by  him, "too,  when  bound  in  irons, 
as  well  as  when  he  wMketh  the  streets  with  applause. 

By-ends.  You  must  not  impose,  nor  lord  it  over  my  faith ; 
leave  me  to  my  liberty,  and  let  me  go  with  you. 

Chr.  Not  a  step  further,  unless  you  will  do  in  what  I  pro- 
pound as  we. 

Then  said  By-ends,  "  I  shall  never  desert  my  old  principles, 
since  they  are  harmless  and  profitable.     If  I  may  not  go  with 


THE   SCHOOLFELLOWS.  101 

you,  I  must  do  as  I  did  before  you  overtook  me,  even  go  by 
myself,  until  some  overtake  me  that  will  be  glad  of  my  com- 
pany, y 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  Christian  and  Hopeful  for- 
sook him,  and  kept  their  distance  before  him;  but  one  of 
them,  looking  back,  saw  three  men  following  Mr.  By-ends, 
and  beheld,  as  they  came  up  with  him,  he  made  them  a  very; 
low  conge  ;  and  they  also  gave  him  a  compliment.  The  men's 
names  were  Mr.  Hold-the-world,  Mr.  Money-love,  and  Mr. 
Save-all — men  that  Mr.  By-ends  had  formerly  been  acquainted 
with;  for  in  their  minority  they  were  schoolfellows,  and  were 
taught  by  one  Mr.  Gripe-man,  a  schoolmaster  in  Love-gain, 
which  is  a  market  town  in  the  county  of  Coveting,  in  the 
north.  This  schoolmaster  taught  them  the  art  of  getting, 
either  by  violence,  cozenage,  flattery,  lying,  or  by  putting  on 
a  guise  of  religion,  and  these  four  gentlemen  had  attained 
much  of  the  art  of  their  master,  so  that  they  could  each  of 
them  have  kept  such  a  school  themselves. 

Well,  when  they  had,  as  I  said,  thus  saluted  each  other, 
Mr.  Money-love  said  to  Mr.  By-ends,  '*Who  are  they  upon 
the  road  before  us  ?  "  for  Christian  and  Hopeful  were  yet  with- 
in view. 

By-ends.  They  are  a  couple  of  far-countrymen  that,  after 
their  mode,  are  going  on  pilgrimage. 

MoNEY-LOVE.  Alas  !  why  did  they  not  stay,  that  we  might 
have  had  their  good  company  ?  for  they  and  we  and  you,  sir, 
I  hope,  are  all  going  on  a  pilgrimage. 

By-ends.  We  are  so,  indeed;  but  the  men  before  us  are  so 
rigid,  and  love  so  much  their  own  notions,  and  do  also  so 
lightly  esteem  the  opinions  of  others,  that  let  a  man  be  never 
so  godly,  yet  if  he  jumps  not  with  them  in  all  things,  they 
thrust  him  quite  out  of  their  company. 

Save-all.  That's  bad;  but  we  read  of  some  that  are  righte- 
ous overmuch;  and  such  men's  rigidness  prevails  with  them 
to  judge  and  condemn  all  but  themselves.  But,  I  pray,  what 
and  how  many  were  the  things  wherein  you  differed. 


103  FAIR  WEATHER  CHRISTIANS. 

By-ends.  Why,  they,  after  their  headstrong  manner,  con- 
clude that  it  is  their  duty  to  rush  on  their  journey  all  weath- 
ers ;  and  I  am  for  waiting  for  wind  and  tidt3.  They  are  for 
hazarding  all  for  God  at  a  clap ;  and  I  am  for  taking  all  ad- 
vantages to  secure  my  life  and  estate.  They  are  for  holding . 
their  notions,  though  all  other  men  are  against  them;  but  I 
am  for  religion  m  what  and  so  far  as  the  times  and  my  safety 
will  bear  it.  They  are  for  religion  when  in  rags  and  con- 
tempt;  but  I  am  for  him  when  he  walks  in  his  golden  slippers 
in  the  sunshine,  and  with  applause. 

HoLD-THE- WORLD.  Ay,  and  hold  you  there  still,  good  Mr. 
By-ends;  for,  for  my  part,  I  can  count  him  but  a  fool  that, 
having  the  liberty  to  keep  what  he  has,  shall  be  so  unwise  as 
to  lose  it.  Let  us  be  wise  as  serpents;  it  is  best  to  make  hay 
when  the  sun  shines;  you  see  how  the  bee  lielh  still  all  win- 
ter, and  bestirs  her  only  when  she  can  liave  profit  witli  pleas- 
ure. God  sends  sometimes  rain,  and  sometimes  sunshine ;  if 
they  be  such  fools  to  go  through  the  first,  yet  let  us  be  con- 
tent to  take  fair  weather  along  with  us.  For  my  part,  I  like 
that  religion  best  that  will  stand  with  the  security  of  God's 
good  blessings  unto  us ;  for  who  can  imagine  that  is  ruled  by 
his  reason,  since  God  has  bestowed  upon  us  the  good  things 
of  this  life,  but  that  he  would  have  us  keep  them  for  liis 
sake  ?  Abraham  and  Solomon  grew  rich  in  religion.  And 
Job  says  that  a  good  man  shall  lay  up  gold  as  dust.  But  he 
must  not  be  such  as  the  men  before  us*  if  they  be  as  you  have 
described  them. 

Save-all.  I  think  that  we  are  all  agreed  in  this  matter,  and 
therefore  there  needs  no  more  words  about  it. 

MoNEY-LOVE.  No,    there  needs  no  more   words  about  tliis 
matter  indeed;  for  he   that   believes  neither   Scripture  nor' 
reason   (and   you  see   we  have    both    on  our   side),    neither 
knows  his  own  liberty  nor  seeks  his  own  safety. 

By-ends.  My  brethren,  we  are,  as  you  see,  going  all  on 
pilgrimage;  and,  for  our  better  diversion  from  things  that 
are  bad,  give  me  leave  to  propound  unto  you  this  question ; 


MONEY-LOVE'S  ARGUMENTS.  103 

Suppose  a  man,  a  minister,  or  a  tradesman,  etc.,  should 
have  an  advantage  lie  before  him  to  get  the  good  bless- 
ings of  this  life,  yet  so  as  that  he  can  by  no  means  come  by 
them,  except  in  appearance  at  least  he  becomes  extraordinarily 
zealous  in  some  points  of  religion  that  he  meddled  not  with 
before ;  may  he  not  use  this  means  to  attain  his  end,  and  yet 
be  a  right  honest  man  ? 

Money-love.  1  see  the  bottom  of  your  question ;  and,  with 
these  gentlemen's  good  leave,  I  will  endeavour  to  shape  you 
an  answer.  And  first,  to  speak  to  your  question  as  it  con- 
cerns a  minister  himself.  Suppose  a  minister,  a  worthy  man, 
possessed  but  of  a  very  small  benefice,  and  has  in  his  eye  a 
greater,  more  fat  and  plump  by  far;  he  has  also  now  an  op- 
portunity of  getting  of  it,  yet  so  as  by  being  more  studious, 
by  preaching  more  frequently  and  zealously,  and,  because  the 
temper  of  the  people  requires  it,  by  altering  of.  some  of  his 
principles ;  for  my  part  I  see  no  reason  but  a  man  may  do  this 
(provided  he  has  a  call),  ay,  and  more  a  great  deal  besides, 
and  yet  be  an  honest  man.     For  why — 

1.  His  desire  of  a  greater  benefice  is  lawful  (this  cannot  be 
contradicted),  since  it  is  set  before  him  by  Providence;  so 
then,  he  may  get  it  if  he  can,  making  no  question  for  con- 
science' sake. 

2.  Besides,  his  desire  after  that  benefice  makes  him  more 
studious,  a  more  zealous  preacher,  etc.,  and  so  makes  him  a 
better  man ;  yea,  makes  him  better  improve  his  parts,  which 
is  according  to  the  mind  of  God. 

3.  Now,  as  for  his  complying  with  the  temper  of  his  people, « 
by  dissenting,*  to  serve  them,  some  of  his  principles,  this, 
argueth  (1)  that  he  is  of  a  self-denying  temper;  (2)  of  a  sweet 
and  winning  deportment ;  and  so  (3)  more  fit  for  the  minis- 
terial function. 

4.  I  conclude,  then,  that  a  minister  tljat  changes  a  small  for 
a  great  should  not  for  so  doing  be  judged  as  covetous;  but 

*  Or  dissembling,  playing  the  hypocrite  or  disguising  his  eal  intentions. 


104  MONEY-LOVE'S   ARGUMENTS. 

rather,  since  he  has  improved  in  his  parts  and  industry  there- 
by, be  counted  as  one  that  pursues  his  call,  and  the  oppor- 
tunity put  into  his  hand  to  do  good. 

And  now  to  the  second  part  of  the  question,  which  concerns 
the  tradesman  you  mentioned.  Suppose  such  an  one  to  have 
but  a  poor  employ  in  the  world,  but,  by  becoming  religious, 
lie  may  mend  his  market,  perhaps  get  a  rich  wdfe,  or  more  and 
far  better  customers  to  his  shop ;  for  my  part,  I  see  no  reason 
but  that  this  may  be  lawfully  done.     For  why— 

1.  To  become  religious  is  a  virtue,  by  what  means  soever 
a  man  becomes  so: 

2.  Nor  is  it  unlawful  to  get  a  rich  wife,  or  more  custom  to 
my  shop. 

3.  Besides,  the  man  that  gets  these  by  becoming  religious 
gets  that  which  is  good  of  them  that  are  good,  by  becoming 
good  himself ;  so  then  here  is  a  good  wife,  and  good  customers, 
and  good  gain,  and  all  these  by  becoming  religious,  which  is 
good.  Therefore,  to  become  religious  to  get  all  these  is  a 
good  and  profitable  design. 

This  answer,  thus  made  by  this  Mr.  Money-love  to  Mr.  By- 
ends'  question,  was  highly  applauded  by  them  all ;  wherefore 
they  concluded,  upon  the  whole,  that  it  was  most  wholesome 
and  advantageous.  And  because,  as  they  thought,  no  man 
was  able  to  contradict  it,  and  because  Christian  and  Hopeful 
were  yet  within  call,  they  jointly  agreed  to  assault  them  with 
the  question  as  soon  as  they  overtook  them;  and  the  rather 
because  they  had  opposed  Mr  By-ends  before.  So  they  called 
after  them,  and  they  stopped,  and  stood  still  till  they  came 
(up  to  them ;  but  they  concluded,  as  they  went,  that  not  Mr. 
ty-ends  but  old  Mr.  Hold-the-world  should  propound  the 
question  to  them,  becauie,  as  they  supposed,  their  answer  to 
him  would  be  without  the  remainder  of  that  heat  that  wa^ 
kindled  betwixt  Mr.  By-ends  and  them  at  their  parting  a  little 
before. 

So  they  came  up  to  each  other,  and,  after  a  short  sail  ta- 


CHRISTIAN'S  ANSWER.  105 

tion,  Mr.  Hold-the-world  propounded  the  question  to  Christian 
and  his  fellow,  and  bid  them  to  answer  it  if  they  could. 

Then  said  Christian, ."  Evena  babe  in  religion  may  answer 
ten  thousand  such  questions.  For  if  it  be  unlawful  to  follow 
Christ  for  loaves,  as  it  is  (John  vi.),  how  much  more  abomi- 
nable is  it  to  make  of  him  and  religion  a  stalking-horse  to  get 
and  enjoy  the  world!  Nor  do  we  find  any  other  than  heath- 
ens, hypocrites,  devils,  and  witches,  that  are  of  this  opinion. 

"1.  Heathens;  for  when  Hamor  and  Shechem  had  a  mind 
to  the  daughter  and  cattle  of  Jacob,  and  saw  that  there  was 
no  way  for  them  to  come  at  them  but  by  becoming  circum- 
cised, they  say  to  their  companions,  '  If  every  male  of  us  be 
circumcised,  as  they  are  circumcised,  shall  not  their  cattle, 
and  their  substaujce,  and  every  beast  of  theirs,  be  ours  ? ' 
Their  daughter  and  their  cattle  were  that  which  they  sought 
to  obtain,  and  their  religion  the  stalking-horse  they  made  use 
of  to  come  at  them.* 

''2.  The  hypocritical  Pharisees  were  also  of  this  religion; 
long  prayers  were  their  pretence,  but  to  get  widows'  houses 
was  their  intent:  and  greater  damnation  was  from  God  their 
judgment.     (Luke  xx.  46,  47.) 

''  3.  Judas,  the  devil,  was  also  of  this  religion;  he  was  re- 
ligious for  the  bag,.that  he  might  be  possessed  of  what  was 
therein ;  but  he  was  lost,  cast  away,  and  tiie  very  son  of  per- 
dition. 

*'4.  Simon,  the  witch,  was  of  this  religion  too;  for  he 
would  have  had  the  Holy  Ghost,  that  lie  might  have  got 
money  therewith ;  and  his  sentence  from  Peter's  mouth  was 
according.     (Acts  viii.  19-32.) 

*'  5.  Neither  will  it  out  of  my  mind  but  that  that  man  who 
takes  up  religion  for  the  world  will  throw  away  religion  for 
the  world ;  for,  so  surely  as  Judas  designed  the  world  in  becom- 
ing religious,  so  surely  did  he  also  sell  religion  and  his  Master 
for  the  same.  To  answer  the  question,  therefore,  affirmatively^ 

I  *  Read  the  whole  story,  Gen.  xxxiv.  30-23. 


106  CHRISTIAN  FIRM  TO   HIS  PRINCIPLES. 

as  I  perceive  you  have  done,  and  to  accept  of,  as  authentic, 
such  answers,  is  heathenish,  hypocritical,  and  devilish ;  and 
your  reward  will  be  according  to  your. works." 

Then  they  stood  staring  one  upon  another,  but  had  not 
wherewith  to  answer  Christian.  Hopeful  also  approved  of 
the  soundness  of  Christian's  answer;  so  there  was  a  great 
silence  among  them.  Mr.  By-ends  and  his  company  also  stag- 
gered and  kept  behind,  that  Christian  and  Hopeful  might 
outgo  them.  Then  said  Christian  to  his  fellow,  "If  these 
men  cannot  stand  before  the  sentence  of  men,  what  will  they 
do  wnth  the  sentence  of  God  ?  And  if  they  are  mute  when 
dealt  with  by  vessels  of  clay,  what  will  they  do  when  they 
shall  be  rebuked  by  the  flames  of  a  devouring  fire  ? " 

Then  Christian  and  Hopeful  outwent  them  again,  and  went 
till  they  came  at  a  delicate  plain  called  Ease,  where  they 
went  with  much  content;  but  that  plain  was  but  narrow,  so 
they  were  quickly  got  over  it.  Now  at  the  further  side  of 
that  plain  was  a  little  hill  called  Lucre,  and  in  that  hill  a 
silver  mine,  which  some  of  them  that  had  formerly  gone  that 
way,  because  of  the  rarity  of  it,  had  turned  aside  to  see ;  but 
going  too  near  the  brink  of  the  pit,  the  ground,  being  de- 
ceitful under  them,  broke,  and  they  were  slain ;  some  also  had  ■ 
l)een  maimed  there,  and  could  not  to  their.dying  d^y  be  their 
own  men  again. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  a  liltlo  off  tlie  road,  over 
against  the  silver  mine,  stood  Dcmas  (gentleman-like)  to  call 
to  passengers  to  come  and  see,  who  said  to  Christian  and  hig 
fellow,  "Ho!  turn  aside  hither,  audi  will  show  you  a  thing.'' 

Chr.  What  thing  so  deserving  as  to  turn  us  oat  of  the  way 
to  see  it  ? 

Demas.  Here  is  a  silver  mine,  and  some  digging  in  it  foi 
treasure;  if  you  will  come,  with  a  little  pains  you  may  richly 
provide  for  yourselves. 

Then  said  Hopeful,  "Let  us  go  se^." 

" Not  I, "  said  Christian ;  "I  have  heard  of  this  place  be* 


DEMAS'   PEDIGREE.  107 

fore  now,  and  how  many  have  there  been  slain ;  and  besides^ 
that  treasure  is  a  snare  to  those  that  seek  it,  for  it  liindereth 
them  in  their  pilgrimage."  Then  Christian  called  to  Demas, 
saying,  "Is  not  the  place  dangerous  ?  Hath  it  not  hindered 
many  in  their  pilgrimage  ?  "     (Hosea  xiv.  8,  9.) 

Demas.  ISTot  very  dangerous,  except  to  those  that  are  care 
less.     (But,  withal,  he  blushed  as  he  spake). 

Then  said  Christian  to  Hopeful,  "Let  us  not  stir  a  step,  but 
still  keep  on  our  way." 

Hope.  I  will  warrant  you,  when  By-ends  comes  up,  if  he 
hath  the  same  invitation  as  we,  he  will  turn  in  thither  to  see. 

Chk.  No  doubt  thereof,  for  his  principles  lead  him  that 
way,  and  a  hundred  -to  one  but  he  dies  there. 

Then  Demas  called  again,  saying,  "But  will  you  not  come 
over  and  see?"  Then  Christian  roundly  answered,  saying, 
"Demas,  thou  art  an  enemy  to  the  right  ways  of  the  Lord  of 
this  way,  and  hast  been  already  condemned  for  thine  own 
turning  aside,  by  one  of  his  Majesty's  judges  (2  Tim.  iv.  10), 
and  why  seekcst  thou  to  bring  us  into  the  like  condemnation  ? 
Besides,  if  we  at  all  turn  aside,  our  Lord  the  King  will  cer- 
tainly hear  thereof,  and  will  there  put  us  to  shame  where  we 
would  stand  with  boldness  before  him." 

Demas  cried  again,  that  he  also  was  one  of  their  fraternity, 
and  that  if  they  would  tarry  a  little  he  also  himself  would 
walk  with  them. 

Then  said  Christian,  "What  is  thy  name?  Is  it  not  the 
same  by  the  which  I  have  called  thee  ?  " 

Demas.  Yes,  my  name  is  Demas;  I  am  the  son  of  Abraham. 

Chr.  I  know  you ;  Gehazi  was  your  great  grandfather,  and 
Judas  your  father;  and  you  have  trod  in  their  steps.  (2  Kings 
V.  20;  Matt.  xxvi.  14,  15;  xxvii.  1-5.)  It  is  but  a  devilish 
prank  that  thou  usest:  thy  father  was  hanged  for  a  traitor, 
and  thou  deservest  no  better  reward.  Assure  thyself,  that 
wiien.  we  come  to  the  Kiug,  we  will  do  him  word  of  this  thy  be- 
haviour. 


108  '*  REMEMBER   LOT'S   WIFE." 

Thus  they  went  their  way. 

By  this  time  By-ends  and  his  companions  were  come  again 
within  sight,  and  they,  at  the  first  beck,  went  over  to  Demas. 
Now,  whether  they  fell  into  the  pit  by  looking  over  the  brink 
thereof,  or  whether  they  went  down  to  dig,  or  whether  they 
were  smothered  in  the  bottom  by  the  damps  that  commonly 
arise,  of  these  things  I  am  not  certain ;  but  this  I  observed, 
thac  they  never  were  seen  again  in  the  way.  Then  sang 
Christian — 

*'  By-ends  and  Silver- Demas  both  agree  ; 
One  calls,  the  other  runs,  that  he  may  be 
A  sharer  in  his  hicre  :  so  these  do 
Take  up  in  this  world,  and  no  further  go." 

Now  I  saw  that  just  on  the  other  side  of  this  plain,  the  pil- 
grims came  to  a  place  where  stood  an  old  monument,  hard 
by  the  highway  side,  at  the  sight  of  which  they  were  both 
concerned,  because  of  the  strangeness  of  the  form  thereof: 
for  it  seemed  to  them  as  if  it  had  been  a  woman  transformed 
into  the  shape  of  a  pillar.  Here  therefore  they  stood  looking 
and  looking  upon  it,  but  could  not  for  a  time  tell  what  they 
should  make  thereof.  At  last  Hopeful  espied,  written  above 
upon  the  head  thereof,  a  writing  in  an  unusual  hand  ;  but  he, 
being  no  scholar,  called  to  Christian  (for  he  was  learned)  to 
see  if  he  could  pick  out  the  meaning;  so  he  came,  and  after 
a  little  laying  of  letters  together,  he  found  the  same  to  be 
this:  *' Remember  Lot's  wife."  So  he  read  it  to  his  fellow; 
after  which  they  both  concluded  that  that  was  the  pillow  of 
salt  into  which  Lot's  wife  was  turned  for  her  looking  back 
with  a  covetous  heart,  when  she  was  going  from  Sodom  for 
safety  (Gen.  xix.  26) :  which  sudden  and  amazing  sight  gave 
them  occasion  of  this  discourse : — 

Chr.  Ah,  my  brother,  this  is  a  seasonable  sight;  it  came 
opportunely  to  us  after  the  invitation  which  Demas  gave  us  to 
come  over  to  view  the  hill  Lucre ;  and  had  we  gone  over  as 
he  desired  us,  and  as  thou  wast  inclining  to  do,  my   brother, 


A   SAD  BUT  JUST   CONCLUSION.  109 

we  had,  for  aught  I  know,  been  made  ourselves,  like  this 
woman,  a  spectacle  for  all  those  that  shall  come  after  to 
behold . 

Hope.  I  am  sorry  that  I  was  so  foolish,  and  am  made  to 
wonder  that  I  am  not  now  as  Lot's  wife ;  for  wherein  was  the 
difference  betwixt  her  sin  and  mine  ?  She  only  looked  back; 
and  I  had  a  desire  to  go  see.  Let  grace  be  adored,  and  let  me 
be  ashamed  that  ever  such  a  thing  should  be  in  mine  heart. 

Chr.  Let  us  take  notice  of  what  we  see  here,  for  our  help 
for  time  to  come.  This  woman  escaped  one  judgment,  for  she 
fell  not  by  the  destruction  of  Sodom;  yet  she  was  destroyed 
by  another,  as  we  see ;  she  is  turned  into  a  pillar  of  salt. 

Hope.  True ;  and  she  may  be  to  us  both  caution  and  ex- 
ample :  caution,  that  we  should  shun  her  sin ;  or  a  sign  of 
what  judgment  will  overtake  such  as  shall  not  be  prevented  by 
this  caution ;  so  Korah,  Dathan,  and  Abiram,  with  the  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  men  that  perished  in  their  sin,  did  also  become 
a  sign  or  example  to  others  to  beware.  (Num.  xxvi.  9,  10.) 
But,  above  all,  I  muse  at  one  thing ;  to  wit,  how  Demas  and  his 
fellows  can  stand  so  confidently  yonder  to  look  for  that  trea- 
sure, which  this  woman  but  for  looking  behind  her  after  (for 
we  read  not  that  she  stepped  one  foot  out  of  the  way)  was 
turned  into  a  pillar  of  salt;  especially  since  the  judgment 
which  overtook  her  did  make  her  an  example  within  sight  of 
where  they  are ;  for  they  cannot  choose  but  see  her,  did  they 
but  lift  up  their  eyes. 

Chr.  It  is  a  thing  to  be  wondered  at,  and  it  argueth  that 
their  hearts  are  grown  desperate  in  the  case;  and  I  cannot  tell 
who  to  compare  ti)em  to  so  fitly  as  to  them  that  pick  pockets 
in  the  presence  of  the  judge,  or  that  will  cut  purses  under  the 
gallows.  It  is  said  of  the  men  of  Sodom,  that  they  were  sin- 
ners exceedingly,  because  they  were  sinners  before  the  Lord ; 
that  is,  in  his  eyesight,  and  notwithstanding  the  kindnesses 
that  he  had  showed  them  (Gen.  xiii.  13) ;  for  the  land  of 
Sodom  was  now  like  the  garden  of  Eden  heretofore.     (Gen. 


110  ''THE  RIVER  OF  GOD.'' 

xiii.  10.)  This,  therefore,  provoked  him  the  more  to  jealousy, 
and  made  their  plague  as  hot  as  the  fire  of  the  Lord  out  of 
heaven  could  make  it.  And  it  is  most  rationally  to  be  conclud- 
ed that  sueh,  even  such  as  these  are,  that  shall  sin  in  the  sight, 
yea,  and  that  too  in  despite  of  such  examples  that  are  set  con- 
tinually before  them,  to  caution  them  to  the  contrary,  must 
be  partakers  of  severest  judgment. 

Hope.  Doubtless  thou  hast  said  the  truth ;  but  what  a  mercy 
is  it,  that  neither  thou,  but  especially  I,  am  not  made  myself 
this  example!  This  ministereth  occasion  to  us  to  thank  God, 
to  fear  before  him,  and  always  to  remember  Lot's  wife. 

I  saw,  then,  that  they  went  on  their  way  to  a  pleasant  river, 
which  David  the  king  called  "the  river  of  God,"  but  John 
"the  river  of  the  water  of  life."  Now  their  way  lay  just 
upon  the  bank  of  the  river;  here  therefore  Christian  and  his 
companion  walked  with  great  delight;  they  drank  also  of  the 
water  of  the  river,  which  was  pleasant  and  enlivening  to  their 
weary  spirits.  Besides,  on  the  bank  of  this  river,  on  either 
side,  were  green  trees,  that  bore  all  manner  of  fruit ;  and  the 
leaves  of  the  trees  were  good  for  medicine ;  with  the  fruit  of 
these  trees  they  were  also  much  delighted;  and  the  leaves 
they  ate  to  prevent  surfeits,  and  other  diseases  that  are  inci- 
dent to  those  that  heat  their  blood  by  travels.  (Psa.  Ixv.  9; 
Rev.  xxii.  1,  3;  Ezek.  xlvii.)  On  either  side  of  the  river  was 
also  a  meadow,  curiously  beautified  with  lilies;  and  it  was 
green  all  the  year  long.  In  this  meadow  they  lay  down  and 
slept,  for  here  they  might  lie  down  safely.  When  they  awoke, 
they  gathered  again  of  the  fruit  of  the  trees,  and  drank  again 
of  the  water  of  the  river,  and  then  lay  down  again  to  sleep. 
(Psa.  xxiii.  2;  Isa.  xiv,  30.)  Thus  they  did  several  days  and 
nights.     Then  they  sang — 

"  Behold  ye  how  these  crystal  streams  do  glide, 
To  comfort  pilgrims  by  the  highway  side. 
The  meadows  green,  beside  their  fragrant  smell, 


BY-PATH  MEADOW.  Ill 

Yield  dainties  for  them  :  and  lie  that  can  tell 

What  pleasant  fruit,  yea,  leaves,  these  trees  do  yield, 

Will  soon  sell  all,  that  he  may  buy  this  field." 

So  when  they  were  disposed  to  go  on  (for  they  were  not,  as 
yet,  at  their  journey's  end),  tbey  ate  and  drank,  and  departed. 

Now  I  beheld  in  my  dream,  that  they  had  not  journeyed 
far,  but  the  river  and  the  way  for  a  time  parted ;  at  which 
they  were  not  a  little  sorry,  yet  they  durst  not  go  out  of  the/ 
way.  Now  the  way  from  the  river  was  rough,  and  their  feet 
tender,  by  reason  of  their  travels;  ''so  the  souls  of  the  pil- 
grims were  much  discouraged  because  of  the  way."  (Num. 
xxi.  4.)  Wherefore,  still  as  they  went  on,  -they  wished  for  bet- 
ter way .  Now  a  little  before  them,  there  was  on  the  left  hand  of 
the  road  a  meadow,  and  a  stile  to  go  over  into  it ;  and  that 
meadow  was  called  By-path  Meadow.  Then  said  Christian  to 
his  fellow,  "  If  this  meadow  lieth  along  our  wayside,  let's  go 
over  into  it."  Then  he  went  to  the  stile  to  see,  and  behold  a 
path  lay  along  by  the  way  on  the  other  side  of  the  fence.  "  It 
is  according  to  my  wish,"  said  Christian.  "Here  is  the 
easiest  going;  come,  good  Hopeful,  and  let  us  go  over." 

Hope.  But  how  if  this  path  should  lead  us  out  of  the  way  ? 

"That's  not  like,"  said  the  other.  "Look,  doth  it  not  go 
along  by  the  wayside  ? "  So  Hopeful,  being  persuaded  by  his 
fellow,  went  after  him  over  the  stile.  When  they  were  gone 
over,  and  were  got  into  the  path,  they  found  it  very  easy  to 
their  feet;  and  withal  they,  looking  before  them,  espied  a 
man  walking  as  tlicy  did  (and  his  name  was  Vain-confidence) ; 
so  they  called  after  him,  and  asked  him  whither  that  way 
led.  He  said,  "To  the  Celestial  Gate."  "Look,"  said 
Christian,  "did  not  I  tell  you  so  ?  By  this  way  you  may  see 
We  are  right."  So  they  followed,  and  he  went  before  them. 
But  behold,  the  night  came  on,  and  it  grew  very  dark ;  so  that 
they  that  were  behind  lost  the  sight  of  him  tliat  went  before. 

He  therefore  that  went  before  (Vain-confidence  by  name), 
not  seeing  the  way  befop>  him,  fell  into  a  deep  pit  (Isa.  ix. 


112  FALL   OF  VAIN-CONFIDENCE. 

16),  which  was  on  purpose  there  made  by  the  prince  of  those 
grounds,  to  catch  vain-glorious  fools  withal,  and  was  dashed 
in  pieces  with  his  fall. 

Now  Christian  and  his  fellow  heard  him  fall.  So  they 
called  to  know  the  matter,  but  there  was  none  to  answer, 
only  they  heard  a  groaning.  Then  said  Hopeful,  "Where 
are  we  now  ?  "  Then  was  his  fellow  silent,  as  mistrusting 
that  he  had  led  him  out  of  the  way.  And  now  it  began  to 
rain,  and  thunder  and  lighten  in  a  very  dreadful  manner,  and 
the  water  rose  amain. 

Then  Hopeful  groaned  in  himself,  saying,  ' '  Oh,  that  I  had 
kept  on  my  way?  " 

Chr.  "Who  could  have  thought  that  this  path  should  havb 
led  us  out  of  tlie  way  ? 

Hope.  I  was  afraid  on't  at  the  very  first,  and  therefore  gave 
you  that  gentle  caution.  I  would  have  spoken  plainer,  but 
that  you  are  older  than  I. 

Chr.  Good  brother,  be  not  offended ;  I  am  sorry  I  have 
brought  thee  out  of  the  way,  and  that  I  have  put  thee  into 
such  imminent  danger;  pray,  my  brother,  forgive  me;  I  did 
not  do  it  of  an  evil  intent. 

Hope.  Be  comforted,  my  brother,  for  I  forgive  thee ;  and 
believe,  too,  that  this  shall  be  for  our  good. 

Chr.  I  am  glad  I  have  with  me  a  merciful  brother:  but  we 
must  not  stand  thus ;  let  us  try  to  go  back  again. 

Hope.  But,  good  brother,  let  me  go  before. 

CiiR  No,  if  you  please,  let  me  go  first,  that  if  there  be  any 
danger  I  may  be  first  therein,  because  by  my  means  we  are 
both  gone  out  of  the  way. 

"No,"  said  Hopeful,  "you  shall  not  go  first;  for  your 
mind  being  troubled  may  lead  you  out  of  the  way  again." 

Then,  for  their  encouragement,  they  heard  the  voice  of  One 
saying,  "  Set  thine  heart  towards  the  highway,  even  the  way 
which  thou  wentest:  turn  again."  (Jer.  xxxi.  21.)  But  by 
this  time  the  waters  were  greatly  risen,  by  reason  of  which 


/  M-W:~  ^"■■-"v^^^ 


DOUBTING   CASTLE.  113 

the  way  of  going  back  was  very  dangerous.  (Then  I  thought 
that  it  is  easier  going  out  of  the  way  when  we  are  in,  than  go- 
ing in  when  we  are  ou];.)  Yet  they  adventured  to  go  back, 
but  it  was  so  dark,  and  the  flood,  was  so  high,  that  in  their 
going  back  they  had  liked  to  have  been  drowned  nine  or  ten 
times. 

Neither  could  they,  with  all  the  skill  they  had,  get  again  to 
the  stile  that  night.  Wherefore,  at  last,  lighting  under  a  lit- 
tle shelter,  they  sat  down  there  until  the  day  brake ;  but,  be- 
ing weary,  they  fell  asleep.  Now  there  was,  not  far  from  the 
place  where  they  lay,  a  castle,  called  Doubting  Castle,  the 
owner  whereof  was  Giant  Despair ;  and  it  was  in  his  grounds 
they  now  were  sleeping.  Wherefore  he,  getting  up  in  the 
morning  early,  and  walking  up  and  down  in  his  fields,  caught 
Christian  and  Hopeful  asleep  in  his  grounds.  Then,  witli  a 
grim  aild  surly  voice,  he  bid  them  awake ;  and  asked  them 
whence  they  were,  and  what  they  did  on  his  grounds.  They 
told  him  they  were  pilgrims,  and  that  they  had  lost  their 
way.  Then  said  the  giant,  ''You  have  this  night  trespassed 
on  me,  by  trampling  in  and  lying  on  my  grounds,  and 
therefore  you  must  go  along  with  me."  So  they  were 
forced  to  go,  because  he  was  stronger  than  they.  They  also 
had  but  little  to  say,  for  they  knew  themselves  in  a  fault. 
The  giant,  therefore,  drove  them  before  him,  and  put  them 
into  his  castle,  into  a  very  dark  dungeon,  nasty  and  stink- 
ing to  the  spirits  of  these  two  men.  (Psa.  Ixxxviii.  8.) 
Here,  then,  they  lay  from  Wednesday  morning  till  Saturday 
night,  without  one  bit  of  bread,  or  drop  of  drink,  or  light, 
or  any  to  ask  how  they  did.  They  were,  therefore,  here 
in  evil  case,  and  were  far  from  friends  and  acquaintance. 
Now  in  this  place  Christian  had  double  sorrow,  because  it  was 
through  his  uuad vised  counsel  that  they  were  brought  into 
this  distress. 

Now  Giant  Despair  had  a  wife,  and  her  name  was  Diffidence. 
So  when  he  was  gone  to  bed,  he  told  his  wife  what  he  had 


114  DESPAIR  ILL-USES   THE  PILGRIMS. 

done ;  to  wit,  that  he  had  taken  a  couple  of  prisoners  and 
cast  them  into  his  dungeon,  for  trespassing  on  his  grounds. 
Then  he  asked  her  also  what  he  had  best  do  further  to  them. 
So  she  asked  him  what  they  were,  whence  they  came,  and 
whither  they  were  bound  ;  and  he  told  her.  Then  she  coun- 
selled him  that  when  he  arose  in  the  morning  he  should  beat 
them  witl>out  any  mercy.  So,  when  he  arose,  he  getteth  him 
a  grievous  crab-tree  cudgel,  and  goes  down  into  the  dungeon 
to  them,  and  there  first  falls  to  rating  of  them  as  if  they  were 
dogs,  although  they  gave  him  never  a  word  of  distaste ;  then 
he  falls  upon  them,  and  beats  them  fearfully,  in  such  sort  that 
they  were  not  able  to  help  themselves,  or  to  turn  them  upon 
the  floor.  This  done,  he  withdraws  and  leaves  them,  there 
to  condole  their  misery  and  to  mourn  under  their  distress. 
So  all  that  day  they  spent  the  time. in  nothing  but  sighs  and 
bitter  lamentations.  The  next  night,  she,  talking  with  her 
husband  about  them  further,  arud  understanding  they  were 
yet  alive,  did  advise  him  to  counsel  them  to  make  away  them- 
selves. So,  when  morning  was  come,  he  goes  to  them  in  a, 
surly  manner,  as  before,  and  perceiving  them  to  be  very  sore 
with  the  stripes  that  he  had  given,  them  the  day  before,  he 
told  t?liem,  that  since  they  were  never  like  to  come  out  of  th'at 
place,  their  only  way  would  be  forthwith  to  make  an  end  of 
themselves,  either  with  knife,  halter,  or  poison.  ^'Forwhy," 
said  he,  "should  you  choose  life,  seeing  it  is  attended  with, 
so  much  bitterness  !  "  But  they  desired  him  to  let  them  go. 
With  that  he  looked  ugly  upon  them,  and,  rushing  to  them, 
had  doubtless  made  an  end  of  them  himself,  but  that  he  fell 
into  one  of  his  fits  (for  he  sometimes,  in  sunshiny  weather, 
fell  into  fits),  and  lost  for  a  time  the  use  of  his  hand;  where- 
fore he  withdrew,  and  left  them  as  before,  to  consider  what  to 
do.  Then  did  the  prisoners  consult  between  themselves, 
whether  it  was  best  to  take  his  counsel  or  no ;  and  thus  they 
began  to  discourse; — 

"Brother,"  said  Christian,  "  what  shall  we  do  ?    The  life 


HOPEFUL'S   WISE   COUNSEL.  115 

that  we  now  live  is  miserable.  For  my  part,  I  know  not 
whether  is  best,  to  live  thus,  or  to  die  out  of  hand.  'My 
^Koul  choeseth  strangling  rather  than  life,'  and  the  grave  is 
more  easy  for  me  than  this  dungeon.  (Job  vii.  15.)  Shall 
we  be  ruled  by  the  giant  ? " 

Hope.  Indeed,  our  present  condition  is  dreadful,  and  death 
would  be  far  more  welcome  to  me  than  thus  forever  to  abide;' 
but  yet,  let  us  consider,  the  Lord  of  the  country  to  which  we 
are  going  hath  said,  "Thoushalt  do  no  murder:  "  no,  not  to 
another  man's  person ;  much  more,  then,  are  we  forbidden  to 
take  his  counsel  to  kil\  ourselves.  Besides,  he  that  kills  an- 
other can  but  commiv  murder  upon  his  body;  but  for  one 
to  kill  himself  is  to  kill  body  and  soul  at  once.  And  more- 
over, my  brother,  thou  talkest  of  ease  in  the  grave;  but  hast 
thou  forgotten  the  hell  whither  for  certain  the  murderers  go  ? 
For  "  no  murderer  hath  eternal  life.-'  And  let  us  consider 
again,  that  all  the  law  is  not  in  the  hand  of  Giant  Despair. 
Others,  so  far  as  I  can  understand,  have  been  taken  by  him, 
as  well  as  we;  and  yet  have  escaped  out  of  his  hand.  Who 
knows  but  that  God  that  made  the  world  may  cause  thAt  Giant 
Despair  may  die?  or  that  at  some  time  or  other  he  may  forget  to 
lock  us  in?  or  that  he  may  in  a  short  time  have  another  of  his 
fits  before  us,  and  may  lose  the  use  of  his  limbs? — and  if  ever 
that  should  come  to  pass  again,  for  my  part  I  am  resolved  to 
pluck  up  the  heart  of  a  man,  and  to  try  my  utmost  to  get  from 
under  his  hand.  I  was  a  fool  that  I  did  not  try  to  do  it  be- 
fore ;  but,  however,  my  brother,  let's  be  patient,  and  endure 
a  while;  the  time  may  come  that  may  give  us  a  happy  release: 
but  let  us  not  be  our  own  murcferers. 

With  these  words,  Hopeful  at  present  did  moderate  the 
mind  of  his  brother;  so  they  continued  together  (in  the  dark) 
that  day,  in  their  sad  and  doleful  condition. 

Well,  towards  evening,  the  giant  goes  down  into  the  dun- 
geon again,  to  see  if  his  prisoners  had  taken  his  counsel ;  but 
when  he  came  there  he  found  them  alive;  and,   truly,  alive 


116  THE   EXHORTS   TO   PATIENCE. 

was  all,  for  now,  wliat  for  want  of  bread  and  water,  and"  by 
reason  of  the  wounds  they  received  when  he  beat  them,  they 
could  do  little  but  breathe.  But,  I  say,  he  found  them  alive; 
at  which  he  fell  into  a  grievous  rage,  and  told  them  that, 
seeing  they  had  disobeyed  his  counsel,  it  should  be  worse  with 
them  than  if  they  had  never  been  born. 

At  this  they  trembled  greatly,  and  I  think  that  Christian 
fell  into  a  swoon;  but,  coming  a  little  to  hims^jlf  again,  they 
renewed  their  discourse  about  the  giant's  counsel;  and  wheth- 
er yet  they  had  best  to  take  it  or  no.  Nov/  Christian  again 
seemed  to  be  for  doing  it,  but  Hopeful  made  his  second  reply 
as  followeth : 

*'  My  brother,"  said  he,  ^'  rememberest  thou  not  how  valiant 
thou  hast  been  heretofore  ?  Apollyon  could  ^\ot  crush  thee, 
nor  could  all  that  thou  didst  hear,  or  see,  or  feel,  in  the  Val- 
ley of  the  Shadow  of  Death.  What  hardship,  terror,  and 
amazement  hast  thou  already  gone  through!  and  art  thou  now 
notliing  but  fears  ?  Thou  seest  that  I  am  in  +he  dungeon 
with  thee,  a  far  weaker  man  by  nature  than  t\i<^n  art :  also, 
this  giant  has  wounded  me  as  well  as  thee,  and  ha^h  also  cut 
off  the  bread  and  water  from  my  mouth;  r.nd  wiUi  thee  I 
mourn  without  the  light.  But  let's  exercise  a  little  more  pa- 
tience: remember  how  thou  playedst  the  man  at  Vanity  Fair, 
and  wast  neither  afraid  of  the  chain,  nor  cage,  nor  yet  of 
bloody  death.  Wherefore,  let  us  (at  least  to  avoid  tlie  shame, 
that  becomes  not  a  Christian  to  be  found  in)  bear  up  with  pa- 
tience as  well  as  we  can." 

Now  night  being  come  again,  and  the  giant  and  his  wife 
being  in  bed,  she  asked  him  concerning  the  prisoners,  ami  if 
they  had  taken  his  counsel.  To  which  he  replied,  ''  They  are 
sturdy  rogues :  they  choose  rather  to  bear  all  hardship,  than  to 
make  away  with  themselves."  Then  said  she,  "Take  them  into 
the  castle-yard  to-morrow,  and  show  them  the  bones  and 
skulls  of  those  that  thou  hast  already  despatched,  and  make 
them  believe,  ere  a  week  comes  to  an  end,  thou  also  wilt  tear 
them  in  pieces  as  thou  hast  done  their  fellows  before  them.' 


THE   PILGRIMS   ESCAPE.  117 

So,  when  the  morning  was  come,  the  giant  goes  to  them 
again,  and  takes  them  into  the  castle-yard,  and  shows  them 
as  liis  wife  liad  bidden  him.  *' These,"  said  he,  "  were  pil- 
grims as  you  are,  once,  and  they  trespassed  in  my  grounds, 
as  you  have  done;  and  when  I  thought  fit,  I  tore  them  in 
pieces ;  and  so  within  ten  days  I  will  do  you.  Go,  get  you  down 
to  your  den  again;"  and  with  that  he  beat  them  all  the  way 
thither.  They  lay,  therefore,  all  day  on  Saturday  in  a  lament- 
able case,  as  before.  Now  when  night  was  come,  and  when 
Mrs.  Diffidence  and  her  husband,  the  giant,  were  got  to  bed, 
they  began  to  renew  their  discourse  of  their  prisoners;  and, 
withal,  the  old  giant  wondered  that  he  could  neither  by  his 
blows  nor  his  counsel  bring  them  to  an  end.  And  with  that 
his  wife  replied,  "I  fear,"  said  she,  "that  they  live  in  hope 
that  some  will  come  to  relieve  them,  or  that  they  have  pick- 
locks about  them,  by  the  means  of  which  they  hope  to  es- 
cape." *'And  sayest  thou  so,  my  dear?"  said  the  giant;  "I 
will  therefore  search  them  in  the  morning." 

Well,  on  Saturday,  about  midnight,  they  began  to  pray, 
and  continued  in  prayer  till  almost  break  of  day. 

Now,  a  little  before  it  was  day,  good  Christian,  as  one  half 
amazed,  brake  out  in  this  passionate  speech:  "What  a  fool," 
quoth  he,  "am  I,  thus  to  lie  in  a  stinking  dungeon,  when  I 
may  as  well  walk  at  liberty !  I  have  a  key  in  my  bosom,  called 
Promise,  that  will,  I  am  persuaded,  open  any  lock  in  Doubt- 
ing Castle."  Then  said  Hopeful,  "That  is  good  news;  good 
brother,  pluck  it  out  of  thy  bosom,  and  try." 

Then  Christian  pulled  it  out  of  his  bosom,  and  began  to  try 
at  the  dungeon  door,  whose  bolt  (as  he  turned  the  key)  gave 
back,  and  the  door  flew. open  with  ease,  and  Christian  and 
Hopeful  both  came  out.  Then  he  went  to  the  outward  door 
that  leads  into  the  castle-yard,  and,  with  his  key,  opened  that 
door  also.  After,  he  went  to  the  iron  gate,  for  that  must  be 
opened  too ;  but  that  lock  went  damnable  hard,  yet  the  key  \ 
did  (•pen  it.     Then  they  thrust  open  the  gate  to  make  their 


118  THE   DELECTABLE   MOUNTAINS. 

escape  with  speed,  but  that  gate,  as  it  opened,  made  such  a' 
creaking  that  it  waked  Giant  Despair,  who,  hastily  rising  to 
pursue  his  prisoners,  felt  his  limbs  to  fail,  for  his  fits  took  him 
again,  so  that  he  could  by  rio  means  go  after  them.  Then  they 
went  on,  and  came  to  the  King's  highway,  and  so  were  safe, 
because  they  were  out  of  his  jurisdiction.      '^*' 

Now,  when  they  were  gone  over  the  stile,  they  began  to 
contrive  with  themselves  what  they  should  do  at  that  stile,  to 
prevent  those  that  should  come  after  from  falling  into  the 
hands  of  Giant  Despair.  So  they  consented  to  erect  there  a 
pillar,  and  to  engrave  upon  the  side  thereof  this  sentence: 
' '  Over  this  stile  is  the  way  to  Doubting  Castle,  which  is  kept 
by  Giant  Despair,  who  despiseth  the  King  of  the  Celestial 
Country,  and  seeks  to  destroy  his  holy  pilgrims."  Many 
therefore  that  followed  after  read  wliat  was  written,  and  es- 
caped the  danger.     This  done,  they  sang  as  follows: 

*'  Out  of  the  way  we  went,  and  then  we  found 
What  't  was  to  tread  upon  forbidden  ground ; 
And  let  them  that  come  after  have  a  care, 
Lest  heedlessness  makes  them,  as  we,  to  fare. 
Lest  they,  for  trespassing,  his  prisoners  are, 
Whose  castle  's  Doubting,  and  whose  name 's  Despair." 

They  went  then  till  they  came  to  the  Delectable  Mountains, 
which  mountains  belong  to  the  Lord  of  that  hill  of  which  we 
have  spoken  before;  so  they  went  up  to  the  mountains,  to  be- 
hold the  gardens  and  orchards,  the  vineyards  and  fountains 
of  water;  where  also  they  drank  and  washed  themselves,  and 
did  freely  eat  of  the  vineyards.  Now  there  were  on  the  tops 
of  these  mountains  Shepherds  feeding  their  flocks,  and  they 
stood  by  the  highway  side.  The  pilgrims  therefore  went  to 
them,  and  leaning  upon  their  staves  (as  is  common  with  weary 
pilgrims,  when  they  stand  to  talk  with  any  by  the  way),  they 
asked,  "Whose  Delectable  Mountains  are  these  ?  And  whoso 
be  ,the  sheep  that  feed  upon  them  ? " 

Shep.  These  mountains  are  Immanuel's  Land,  and  they  are 


THE   SHEPHERDS.  119 

within  sight  of  his  city ;  and  the  sheep  also  are  his,  and  he 
iaid  down  his  life  for  them. 

Chr.  Is  this  the  way  to  the  Celestial  City  ? 

Shep.  You  are  just  in  your  way. 

Chr.  How  far  is  it  thither  ? 

Shep.  Too  far  for  any  but  those  that  shall  get  thither  in- 
deed. 

Chr.  Is  the  way  safe  or  dangerous  ? 

Shep.  Safe  for  those  for  whom  it  is  to  be  safe;  "but  the 
transgressors  shall  fall  therein."     (Hosea  xiv.  9.) 

Chr.  Is  there,  in  this  place,  any  relief  for  pilgrims  that  are 
weary  and  faint  in  the  way  ? 

Shep.  The  Lord  of  these  mountains  hath  given  us  a  charge 
not  to  be  "forgetful  to  entertain  strangers"  (Heb.  xiii.  2), 
therefore  the  good  of  the  place  is  before  you. 

I  saw  also  in  my  dream  that,  when  the  Shepherds  perceived 
that  they  were  wayfaring  men,  they  also  put  questions  to  them 
(to  which  they  made  answer  as  in  other  places),  as,  "  Whence 
came  you?  "'and,  "How  got  you  into  the  way?"  and,  "By 
what  means  have  you  persevered  therein  ?  for  but  few  of  them 
that  begin  to  come  hither  do  show  their  face  on  these  moun- 
tains." But  when  the  Shepherds  heard  their  answers,  being 
pleased  therewith,  they  looked  very  lovingly  upon  them,  and 
said,  "Welcome  to  the  Delectable  Mountains." 

The  Shepherds,  I  say  (whose  names  were  Knowledge,  Ex- 
perience, Watchful,  and  Sincere),  took  them  by  the  hand,  and 
nad  them  to  their  tents,  and  made  them  partake  of  that  Avhich 
was  ready  at  present.  They  said,  moreover,  "We  would  that 
ye  should  stay  here  a  wliile,  to  be  acquainted  with  us;  and 
yet  more  to  solace  yourselves  with  the  good  of  these  Delecta- 
ble Mountains."  Tliey  then  told  them  that  they  were  content 
to  stay;  so  they  went  to  their  rest  that  night,  because  it  was 
veiy  late. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  in  the  morning  the  Shepherds 
called  up  Christian  and  Hopeful  to  walk  with  them  upon  the 


120  A  VIEW  FROM  MOUNT   CAUTION. 

mountains;  so  they  went  forthwith  them,  and  walked  awhile^ 
having  a  pleasant  prospect  on  every  side.  Then  said  the  Shep- 
herds one  CO  another,  "Shall  we  show  these  pilgrims  some 
wonders  ?  "  So,  when  they  had  concluded  to  do  it,  they  had 
them  first  to  the  top  of  a  liill  called  Error,  which  was  very 
steep  on  the  furthest  side,  and  bid  them  look  down  to  the 
bottom.  So  Christian  and  Hopeful  looked  down,  and  saw  at 
the  bgttom  several  men  dashed  all  to  pieces  by  a  fall  that  they 
had  from  the  top.  Then  said  Christian,  "What  meaneth 
this?."  The  Shepherds  answered,  "Have  you  not  heard  of 
them  tliat  were  made  to  err,  by  hearkening  to  Hymeneus  and 
Philetus,  as  concerning  the  faith  of  the  resurrection  of  the 
body  ?"  (2  Tim.  ii.  17,  18.)  They  answered,  "Yes."  Then 
said  the  Shepherds,  "Those  that  you  see  lie  dashed  in  pieces 
at  the  bottom  of  this  mountain  are  they;  and  they  have  con- 
tinued to  this  day  unburied,  as  you  see,  for  an  example  to 
others  to  take  heed  how  they  clamber  too  high,  or  how  they 
come  too  near  the  brink  of  this  mountain." 

Then  I  saw  that  they  had  them  to  the  top  of  arrother  moun- 
tain, and  the  name  of  that  is  Caution,  and  bid  them  look  afar 
o3;  which  when  they  did,  they  perceived,  as  they  thought, 
several  men  walking  up  and  down  among  the  tombs  that  were 
there ;  and  they  perceived  that  the  men  were  blind,  because 
they  stumbled  sometimes  upon  the  tombs,  and  because  they 
could  not  get  out  from  among  them.  Then  said  Christian, 
"What  means  this?" 

The  Shepherds  then  answered,  "Did  you  not  see  a  little 
below  these  mountains  a  stile,  that  led  into  a  meadow  on  the 
left  hand  of  this  way  ?  "  They  answered,  "Yes."  Then  said 
the  Shepherds,  ''From  that  stile  there  goes  a  path  that  leads 
directly  to  Doubting  Castle,  which  is  kept  by  Giant  Despair ; 
and  these  (pointing  to  them  among  the  tombs)  came  once  on 
pilgrimage,  as  you  do  now,  even  till  they  came  to  that  same 
Btile;  and,  because  the  right  way  was  rough  in  that  place, 
they  chose  to  go  out  of  it  into  that  meadow,  and  there  were 


THE  BY-WAY  TO  HELL.  121 

taken  by  Giant  Despair,  and  cast  into  Doubting  Castle;  where, 
after  they  had  been  awhile  kept  in  the  dungeon,  he  at  last 
did  put  out  their  eyes,  and  led  them  among  those  tombs, 
where  he  has  left  them  to  wander  to  this  very  day,  that  the 
saying  of  the  wise  man  might  be  fulfilled,  *  The  man  that 
wandereth  out  of  the  way  of  understanding  shall  remain  in 
the  congregation  of  the  dead.'"  (Prov.  xxi.  16.)  Then 
Christian  and  Hopeful  looked  upon  one  another,  with  tears 
gushing  out,  but  yet  said  nothing  to  the  Sheplierds. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  the  Shepherds  had  them  to 
another  place,  in  a  bottom,  where  was  a  door  in  the  side  of 
a  hill;  and  they  opened  the  door  and  bid  them  look  in.  They 
looked  in,  therefore,  and  saw  that  w-ithin  it  was  very  dark 
and  smoky:  they  also  thought  that  they  heard  there  a  rum- 
bling noise  as  of  fire,  and  a  cry  of  some  tormented,  and  that 
they  smelt  the  scent  of  brimstone.  Then  said  Christian,  ' '  What 
means  this  ?  "  The  Shepherds  told  them,  "This  is  a  by-way 
to  hell,  a  way  that  hypocrites  go  in  at;  namely,  such  as  sell 
their  birthright,  with  Esau;  such  as  sell  their  master,  with 
Judas;  such  as  blaspheme  the  gospel,  with  Alexander,  and 
that  lie  and  dissemble,  with  Ananias  and  Sapphira  his  wife." 

Then  said  Hopeful  to  the  Shepherds,  "  I  perceive  that  these 
had  on  them,  even  every  one,  a  show  of  pilgrimage,  as  we 
have  now,  had  they  not  ?  " 

Shep.  Yes,  and  held  it  a  long  time,  too. 

Hope.  How  far  might  they  go  on  pilgrimage  in  their  day, 
since  they  notwithstanding  were  thus  miserably  cast  away  ? 

Shep,  Some  further,  and  some  not  so  far  as  these  moun- 
tains. 

Then  said  the  pilgrims  one  to  another,  '*  We  have  need  to 
cry  to  the  Strong  for  strength." 

Shep.  Ay,  and  you  will  have  need  to  use  it,  when  you  have 
it,  too. 

By  this  time  the  pilgrims  had  a  desire  to  go  forward,  and 
the  Shepherds  a  desire  they  should ;  so  they  walked   together 


122  A  VERY  BRISK  LAD. 

towards  the  end  of  the  mountains.  Then  said  the  Shepherds 
one  to  another,  "Let  us  here  show  to  the  pilgrims  the  gates 
of  the  Celestial  City,  if  ihey  have  skill  to  look  through  our 
perspective  glass."  The  pilgrims  then  lovingly  accepted  tlie 
motion ;  so  they  had  them  to  the  top  of  a  high  hill,  called 
Clear,  and  gave  them  their  glass  to  look.  Then  they  essayed 
to  look,  but  the  remembrance  of  that  last  thing  that  the 
Shepherds  had  shown  them  made  their  hands  shake ;  by  means 
of  which  they  could  not  look  steadily  through  the  glass ;  yet 
they  thought  they  saw  something  like  the  gate,  and  also  some 
of  the  glory  of  the  place.  Then  they  went  away,  and  sang 
this  song : 

■'Thus,  by  the  Shepherds,  secrets  are  reveal'd, 
Which  from  all   other  men  are  kept  conceard. 
Come  to  the  Shepherds,  then,  if  you  would  see 
Things  deep,  things  hid,  and  that  mysterious  be." 

When  they  were  about  to  depart,  one  of  the  Shepherds  gave 
them  a  note  of  the  way.  Another  of  them  bid  them  beware 
of  the  Flatterer.  The  third  bid  them  take  heed  that  they 
sleep  not  upon  the  Enchanted  Ground.  And  the  fourth  bid 
them  God-speed. 

So  I  awoke  from  my  dream. 

And  I  slept,  and  dreamed  again,  and  saw  the  same  two  pil- 
grims going  down  the  mountains  along  the  highway  towards 
the  city.  Now  a  little  below  these  mountains,  on  the  left 
hand,  lieth  the  country  of  Conceit;  from  which  country  there 
comes,  into  the  way  in  which  the  pilgrims  walked,  a  little 
crooked  lane.  Here,  therefore,  they  met  with  a  very  brisk 
lad,  that  came  out  of  that  country;  and  his  name  was  Igno- 
rance. So  Christian  asked  him  from  what  parts  he  came,  and 
whither  he  was  going. 

Ignor.  Sir,  I  was  born  in  the  country  that  lieth  off  there,  a 
little  on  the  left  hand,  and  I  am  going  to  the  Celestial  City. 


IGNORANCE.  123 

Chr.  But  how  do  you  think  to  get  in  at  the  gate  ?  for  you 
may  find  some  difficulty  there. 

*'  As  other  good  people  do,'^  said  Ignorance. 

Chr.  But  what  have  you  to  show  at  that  gate,  that  may 
cause  that  the  gate  should  be  opened  to  you  ? 

Ignor.  I  know  my  Lord's  will,  and  I  have  been  a  good 
liver;  I  pay  every  man  his  own;  I  pray,  fast,  pay  tithes,  and 
give  alms,  and  have  left  my  country  for  whither  I  am  going. 

Chr.  But  thou  camest  not  in  at  the  wicket-gate  that  is  at 
che  head  of  this  way;  thou  camest  in  hither  through  that 
same  crooked  lane,  and  therefore  I  fear,  however  tliou  mayest 
think  of  thyself,  when  the  reckoning  day  shall  come,  thou 
wilt  have  laid  to  thy  charge  that  thou  art  a  thief  and  a  robber, 
instead  of  getting  admittance  into  the  city. 

Ignor.  Gentlemen,  ye  be  utter  jtrangers  to  me ;  I  know  you 
not.  Be  content  to  follow  the  religion  of  your  country,  and 
I  will  follow  the  religion  of  mine.  I  hope  all  will  be  well. 
And  as  for  the  gate  that  you  talk  of,  all  the  world  knows  that 
that  is  a  great  way  off  of  our  country.  I  cannot  think  that 
any  man  in  all  our  parts  doth  so  much  as  know  the  way  to  it ; 
nor  need  they  matter  whether  they  do  or  no,  since  we  have, 
as  you  see,  a  fine,  pleasant  green  lane,  that  comes  down  from 
our  country,  the  next  way  into  the  way. 

When  Christian  saw  that  the  man  was  "wise  in  his  own 
conceit,"  he  said  to  Hopeful,  whisperingly,  "There  is  more 
hope  of  a  fool  than  of  him."  (Prov.  xxvi.  12.)  And  said, 
moreover,  "  '  When  he  that  is  a  fool  walketh  by  the  way,  his 
wisdom  faileth  him,  and  he  saith  to  every  one  that  he  is  a 
fool.'  (Eccles.  X.  3.)  What,  shall  we  talk  further  with  him. 
or  outgo  him  at  present,  and  so  leave  him  to  think  of  what 
he  hath  heard  already ;  and  then  stop  again  for  him  afterwards, 
and  see  if  by  degrees  we  can  do  any  good  to  him  ?  "  Then 
saic'  Hopeful — 

**  Let  Ignorance  a  little  while  now  muse 
On  what  was  said,  and  let  him  not  refuse 


124  STORY   OF   LITTLE-FAITH. 

Good  counsel  to  embrace,  lest  lie  remain 
Still  ignorant  of  what  's  the  chietVst  gain. 
God  saitli,  Those  tliat  no  understanding  have 
(Although  he  made  them),  them  he  will  not  save." 

He  further  added,  "It  is  not  good,  I  think,  to  say  aU  to 
him  at  once ;  let  us  pass  him  by,  if  you  will,  and  talk  to  him 
anon,  ^ven  as  he  is  able  to  bear  it." 

So  they  both  went  on,  and  Ignorance  he  came  after.  JSTow 
when  they  had  passed  him  a  little  way,  they  entered  into  a 
very  dark  lane,  where  they  met  a  man  whom  seven  devils  had 
bound  with  seven  strong  cords,  and  were  carrying  of  him 
back  to  the  door  that  they  saw  on  the  side  of  tlie  hill.  (Matt, 
xii.  45;  Prov.  v.  22.)  Now  good  Christian  began  to  tremble, 
and  so  did  Hopeful,  his  companion  ;  yet  as  the  devils  led  away 
the  man,  Christian  looked  to  see  if  he  knew  liim;  and  he 
thought  it  might  be  one  Turnaway,  that  dwelt  in  the  town  of 
Apostasy.  But  he  did  not  perfectly  see  his  face,  for  he  did 
hang  his  head  like  a  thief  that  is  found.  But  being  gone 
past.  Hopeful  looked  after  him,  and  espied  on  his  back  a  paper 
with  this  inscription,  "  Wanton  professor  and  damnable  apos- 
tate.'' Then  said  Christian  to  his  fellow,  "  Now  I  call  to  re- 
membrance that  which  was  told  me  of  a  thing  that  happened 
to  a  good  man  hereabout.  The  name  of  the  man  was  Little- 
faith,  but  a  good  man,  and  he  dwelt  in  the  town  of  Sincere. 
The  thing  was  this:  At  the  entering  in  of  this  passage,  there 
comes  down  from  Broad-way  Gate  a  lane  called  Dead  INIan's 
Lane,  so  called  because  of  the  murders  tliat  are  commonly 
done  there :  and  this  Little-faith  going  on  pilgrimage,  as  we 
do  now,  chanced  to  sit  down  there,  and  slept.  Now  there 
happened,  at  that  time,  to  comedown  that  lane,  from  Broad- 
way Gate,  three  sturdy  rogues,  and  their  namss  were  Faint- 
heart, Mistrust,  and  Guilt  (three  brothers),  and  they,  espying 
Little-faith  where  he  w^as,  came  galloping  up  with  speed. 
Now  the  good  man  was  just  awake  from  his  sleep,  and  was 
getting  up  to  go  on  his  journey.     So  they  came  up  all  to  him, 


LITTLE-FAITH'S   CERTIFICATE.  125 

and  with  threatening  language  bid  him  stand.  At  this  Little- 
faith  looked  as  white  as  a  clout,  and  had  neither  power  to 
fight  nor  fly.  Then  said  Faint-heart,  'Deliver  thy  purse.' 
But  he  making  no  haste  to  do  it  (for  he  was  loath  to  lose  his 
money),  Mistrust  ran  up  to  him,  and,  thrusting  his  hand  into 
his  pocket,  pulled  out  thence  a  bag  of  silver.  Then  he  cried 
out,  'Thieves!  Thieves!'  With  that  Guilt,  with  a  great  club 
that  was  in  his  hand,  struck  Little-faith  on  the  head,  and  with 
that  blow  felled  him  flat  to  the  ground,  where  he  lay  bleeding 
as  one  that  would  bleed  to  death.  All  this  while  the  thieves 
stood  by.  But  at  last,  they  hearing  that  some  were  upon  the 
road,  and  fearing  lest  it  should  be  one  Great-grace,  that  dwells 
in  the  city  of  Good-confidence,  they  betook  themselves  to 
their  heels,  and  left  this  good  man  to  shift  for  himself.  Now 
after  a  wliile.  Little-faith  came  to  himself,  and  getting  up 
made  shift  to  scrabble"^'-  on  his  way."     Tliis  was  the  story. 

Hope.  But  did  they  take  from  him  all  that  ever  he  had  ? 

Chr.  No;  *he  place  where  his  jewels  were  they  never  ran- 
sacl^ed,  so  those  he  kept  still.  But,  as  I  was  told,  the  good 
man  was  much  afldicted  for  his  loss,  for  the  thieves  got  most 
of  his  spending  money.  That  whicli  they  got  not  (as  I  said) 
were  jewels;  also  he  had  a  little  odd  money  left,  but  scarce 
enough  to  bring  him  to  his  journey's  end  (1  Pet.  iv.  18) ;  nay, 
if  I  was  not  misinformed,  he  was  forced  to  beg  as  he  went,  to 
keep  himself  alive ;  for  his  jewels  he  might  not  sell.  But  beg, 
and  do  what  he  could,  he  went  (as  we  say)  with  many  a 
hungry  belly,  the  most  part  of  the  rest  of  the  way. 

Hope.  But  is  it  not  a  wonder  they  got  not  from  him  his 
certificate,  by  which  he  was  to  receive  his  admittance  at  the 
Celestial  Gate  ? 

Chii.  It  is  a  wonder;  but  they  got  not  that,  though  they 
missed  it  not  through  any  good  cunning  of  his;  for  he,  being 
dismayed  with  their  coming  upon  him,  had  neither  power  nor 

*  An  old  word,  meaning  to  go  on  all  fours. 


126  HIS   SAD  PLIGHT. 

skill  to  hide  anything;  so  it  was  more  by  good  Providence 
than  by  his  endeavour  that  they  missed  of  that  good  thing. 

Hope.  But  it  must  needs  be  a  comfort  to  him  that  they  got 
not  this  jewel  from  him. 

Chr.  It  might  have  been  great  comfort  to  him,  had  he  used 
it  as  he  should ;  but  they  that  told  me  the  story  baid  that  he 
made  but  Itttle  use  of  it  all  the  rest  of  the  way,  and  that  be- 
cause of  the  dismay  that  he  had  in  the  taking  away  his  money; 
indeed,  he  forgot  it  a  great  part  of  the  rest  of  his  journey; 
and  besides,  when  at  any  time  it  came  into  his  mind,  and  he 
began  to  be  comforted  therewith,  then  would  fresh  thoughts 
of  his  loss  come  again  upon  him,  and  those  thoughts  would 
swallow  up  all.   ,  (2  Pet.  i.  9.) 

Hope.  Alas,  poor  man !  This  could  not  but  be  a  great  grief 
to  him. 

Chr.  Grief!  ay,  a  grief  indeed.  Would  it  not  have  been 
so  to  any  of  us,  had  we  been  used  as  he,  to  be  robbed  and 
wounded  too,  and  that  in  a  strange  place,  as  he  Vas  ?  It  is  a 
wonder  he  did  not  die  with  grief,  poor  heart !  I  was  told 
that  he  scattered  almost  ail  the  rest  of  the  way  with  nothing 
but  doleful  and  bitter  complaints ;  telling  also  to  all  that  over- 
took him,  or  that  he  overtook  in  the  way  as  he  went,  where 
he  was  robbed,  and  how;  who  they  were  that  did  it,  and  what 
he  lost;  how  he  was  wounded,  and  that  he  hardly  escaped 
with  his  life. 

Hope.  But  it  Is  a  wonder  that  his  necessity  did  not  put  him 
upon  selling  or  pawning  some  of  his  jewels,  that  he  might 
have  wherewith  to  relieve  himself  in  his  journey. 

ChrI  Thou  talkest  like  one  upon  whose  head  is  the  shell  to 
this  very  day.  :  For  what  should  he  pawn  them  ?  or  to  whom 
should  he  sell  them  ?  In  all  that  country  where  he  was  rob- 
bed, his  jewels  were  not  accounted  of;  nor  did  he  want  that 
relief  which  could  from  thence  be  administered  to  him.  Be- 
sides, had  his  jewels  been  missing  at  the  gate  of  the  Celestial 
City,  he  had  (and  that  he  knew  well  enough)  been  excluded 


ESAU  AND   LITTLE-FAITH.  127 

from  an  inheritance  there ;  and  that  would  have  been  worse  to 
him  than  the  appearance  and  villany  of  ten  thousand  thieves. 

Hope.  Why  art  thou  so  tart,  my  brother  ?  Esau  sold  his 
birthright,  and  that  for  ^,  mess  of  pottage ;  and  that  birth- 
right was  his  greatest  jewel;  and  if  he,  why  might  not  Little- 
faith  do  so  too  ?     (Heb.  xii.  16.) 

Chr.  Esau  did  sell  bis  birthright,  indeed,  and  so  do  many 
besides,  and  by  so  doing  exclude  themselves  from  the  chief 
blessing,  as  also  that  catiff  did.  But  you  must  put  a  differ- 
ence betwixt  Ei^au  and  Little-faith,  and  also  betwixt  their  es- 
tates. Esau's  birthright  was  typical,  but  Little-faith's  jewels 
were  not  so;  Esau's  belly  was  his  god,  but  Little-faith's  belly 
was  not  so ;  Esau's  want  lay  in  his  fleshly  appetite,  Little- 
faith's  did  not  so.  Besides,  Esau  could  see  no  further  than  to 
the  fulfilling  of  his  lusts;  *' Behold,  I  am  at  the  point  to  die 
(said  he) ;  and  what  profit  shall  this  birthright  do  to  me  ?  '* 
(Gen.  XXV.  32.)  But  Little-faith,  though  it  was  his  lot  to 
have  but  a  little  faith,  was  by  his  little  faith  kept  from  such 
extravagancies,  and  made  to  see  and  prize  his  jewels  more 
than  to  sell  them,  as  Esau  did  his  birthright.  You  read  not 
anywhere  that  Esau  had  faith,  no,  not  so  much  as  a  little; 
therefore  no  marvel  if,  where  the  flesh  only  bears  sway  (as  it 
will  in  the  man  where  no  faith  is  to  resist),  if  he  sells  his 
birthright,  and  his  soul  and  all,  and  that  to  the  devil  of  hell; 
for  it  is  with  such,  as  it  is  with  the  ass,  who  in  her  occasion 
cannot  be  turned  away.  (Jer.  ii.  24.)  When  their  minds^re 
set  upon  their  lusts,  they  will  have  them,  whatever  they  cost. 
But  Little-faith  was  of  another  temper:  his  mind  was  on 
things  divine ;  his  livelihood  was  upon  things  that  were  spirit- 
ual, and  from  above.  Therefore,  to  what  end  should  he  that 
is  of  such  a  temper  sell  his  jewels  (iiad  there  been  any  that 
would  have  bought  them),  to  fill  his  mind  with  empty  things  ? 
Will  a  man  give  a  penny^to  fill  his  belly  *vith  hay  ?  or  can  you 
persuade  the  turtle-dove  to  live  upon  carrion  like  the  crow  ? 
Though  faithless  ones  can,  for  carnal  lusts,  pawn,  or  mortgage, 


128  IT   IS  EASIER  TO  TALK  THAN  TO  DO. 

or  sell  what  they  have,  and  sell  themselves  outright  to  boot, 
yet  they  that  have  faith,  saving  faith,  though  but  a  little  of  it, 
cannot  do  so.     Here,  therefore,  my  brother,  is  thy  mistake. 

Hope.  I  acknowledge  it ;  but  yet  your  severe  reflection  had 
almost  made  me  angry. 

Chr.  Why,  I  did  but  compare  thee  to  some  of  the  birds 
that  are  of  the  brisker  sort,  who  will  run  to  and  fro  in  un- 
trodden paths  with  the  shell  upon  their  heads.  But  pass  by 
that,  and  consider  the  matter  under  debate,  and  all  shall  be 
well  betwixt  thee  and  me. 

Hope.  But,  Christian,  these  three  fellows,  I  am  persuaded 
in  my  heart,  are  but  a  company  of  cowards;  would  they  have 
run  else,  think  you,  as  they  did,  at  the  noise  of  one  that  was 
coming  on  the  road  ?  Why  did  not  Little-faith  pluck  up  a 
greater  heart  ?  He  might,  methinks,  have  stood  one  brush 
with  them,  and  have  yielded  when  there  had  been  no  remedy. 

Chr.  That  they  are  cowards,  many  have  said,  but  few  have 
found  it  so  in  the  time  of  trial.  As  for  a  great  heart.  Little- 
faith  had  none;  and  I  perceive  by  thee,  my  brother,  hadst 
thou  been  the  mail  concerned,  thou  art  but  for  a  brush,  and 
then  to  yield.  And  verily  since  this  is  the  height  of  thy 
stomach  now  they  are  at  a  distance  from  us,  should  they 
appear  to  thee  as  they  did  to  him,  they  might  put  thee  to 
second  thoughts.  But  consider  again,  they  are  but  journey- 
men thieves:  they  serve  under  the  king  of  the  botfomless  pit, 
wjio,  if  need  be,  will  come  in  to  their  aid  himself,  and  his 
voice  is  as  the  roaring  of  a  lion.  (Psa.  vii.  2;  1  Pet.  v.  8.) 
I  myself  have  been  engacred  as  this  Little-faith  was,  and  I 
found  it  a  terrible  thing.  These  three  villains  set  upon  me, 
and  I  beginning  like  a  Christian  to  resist,  they  gave  but  a 
call,  and  in  came  their  master.  I  would,  as  the  saying  is, 
have  given  my  life  for  a  penny,  but  that,  as  God  would  have 
it,  I  was  clothed  with  armour  of  proof.  Ay,  and  yet,  though 
I  was  so  harnessed,  I  found  it  hard  work  to  quit  myself  like  a 
man.  No  man  can  tell  what  in  that  combat  attends  us,  but 
he  that  hath  been  in  the  battle  himself. 


laf, 


^'    ( 


UTTLE  FAITH  ROBBED.— Page  125. 


WHAT   CAN  A  MAN  DO?  129 

Hope.  Well,  but  they  ran,  you  see,  when  they  did  but  sup- 
pose that  one  Great-grace  was  in  the  way. 

Chr.  True,  they  have  often  fled,  both  they  and  their  mas- 
ter, when  Great-grace  hath  but  appeared ;  and  no  marvel ; 
for  he  is  the  King's  Champion.  But  I  trow  you  will  put  some 
difference  betwixt  Little-faith  and  the  King's  Champion 
All  the  King's  subjects  are  not  his  champions ;  nor  can  they, 
when  tried,  do  such  feats  of  war  as  he.  Is  it  meet  to  think 
that  a  little  child  should  handle  Goliath  as  David  did  ?  or 
that  there  should  be  the  strength  of  an  ox  in  a  wren  ?  Some 
are  strong,  some  are  weak;  some  have  great  faith,  some 
have  little.  This  man  was  one  of  the  weak,  and  therefore 
he  went  to  the  wall. 

Hope.  I  would  it  had  been  Great-grace,. for  their  sakes. 

Chr.  If  it  had  been,  he  might  have  had  his  hands  full ;  for 
I  must  tell  you  that,  though  Great  grace  is  excellent  good  at 
his  weapons,  and  has,  and  can,  so  long  as  he  keeps  tliem  at 
sword's  point,  do  well  enough  with  them ;  yet,  if  they  get 
within  him,  even  Faint-heart,  Mistrust,  or  the  other,  it  shall 
go  hard  but  they  will  throw  up  his  heels.  And  when  a  man 
is  down,  you  know,  what  can  he  do  ? 

Whoso  looks  well  upon  Great-grace's  face  shall  see  those 
scars  and  cuts  there,  that  shall  easily  give  demonstration  of 
what  I  say.  Yea,  once  I  hearcl  that  he  should  say  (and  that 
when  in  the  combat),  "  We  despaired  even  of  life."  How 
did  these  sturdy  rogues  and  their  fellows  make  David  groan, 
mourn,  and  roar?  Yea,  Heman  and  Hezekiah,  too,  though 
champions  in  their  day,  were  forced  to  bestir  them  when  by 
these  assaulted;  and  yet,  notwithstanding,  they  had  their 
coats  soundly  brushed  by  them.  Peter,  upon  a  time,  would 
go  try  what  he  could  do ;  but,  though  some  do  say  of  him  that 
he  is  the  prince  of  the  apostles,  they  handled  him  so,  that 
they  made  him  at  last  afraid  of  a  sorry  girl . 

B(isidcs,  their  king  is  at  their  whistle.     He  is  never  out  of 

hearing;  and  if  at  anytime  tliey  be  put  to  the  worst,   he,  if 
p.  V.~5. 


130  BECOMING  CONDUCT. 

possible,  comes  in  to  help  them:  and  of  him  it  is  said,  *'  The 
word  of  him  that  layeth  at  him  'cannot  hold:  the  spear,  tho 
dart,  nor  the  habergeon.  He  csteemeth  iron  as  straw,  and 
brass  as  rotten  wood.  The  arrow  cannot  make  him  flee; 
sling  stones  are  turned  with  him  into  stubble.  Darts  are 
counted  as  stubble :  he  laugheth  at  the  shaking  of  a  spear." 
(Job.  xli.  26-29.)  What  can  a  man  do  in  this  case  ?  It  is 
true,  if  a  man  could,  at  every  turn,  have  Job's  horse,  and  had 
skill  and  courage  to  ride  him,  he  might  do  notable  things; 
*'  for  his  neck  is  clothed  with  thunder.  Canst  thou  make  him 
afraid  as  the  grasshopper  ?  the  glory  of  his  nostrils  is  terrible. 
He  paweth  in  the  valley,  and  rejoiceth  in  his  strength:  he  go- 
eth  on  to  meet  the  armed  men.  He  mocketh  at  fear,  and  is 
not  affrighted;  neither  turnethhe  back  from  the  sword.  The 
quiver  rattleth  against  him,  the  glittering  spear,  aud  the 
shield.  He  swalloweth  tlie  ground  with  fierceness  and  rage; 
neither  believeth  he  that  it  is  the  sound  of  the  trumpet.  He 
saitli  among  the  trumpets,  Ha,  ha!  and  he  smelleth  the  bat- 
tle afar  off,  the  thunder  of  the  captains,  and  the  shouting." 
(Job.  xxxix.  19-25.) 

But,  for  such  footmen  as  thee  and  I  are,  let  us  never  desire 
to  meet  with  an  enemy,  nor  vaunt  as  if  we  could  do  better, 
when  we  hear  of  others  that  they  have '  been  foiled,  nor  be 
tickled  at  the  thoughts  of  oirr  own  manhood ;  for  such  com- 
monly come  by  the  worse  when  tried.  Witness  Peter,  of 
whom  I  made  mention  before.  He  would  swagger,  ay,  he 
would.  He  woufd,  as  his  vain  mind  prompted  him  to  say, 
do  better,  and  stand  more  for  his  Master  than  all  men ;  but 
who  so  foiled  and  run  down  by  these  villains  as  he  ? 

Wlien,  therefore,  we  hear  that  such  robberies  are  done  on 
the  King's  highway,  two  things  become  us  to  do:  1.  To  go 
out  harnessed,  and  to  l)e  sure  to  take  a  shield  with  us;  for  it 
was  for  want  of  that  that  he  that  laid  so  lustily  at  Leviathan 
could  not  make  him  yield  :  for,  indeed,  if  that  be  wanting,  he 
fears  us  not  at  all.  Therefore,  he  that  had  skill  hath  said, '  'Above 


THE   FLATTERER.  *  131 

all,  taking  the  shield  of  faith,  wherewith  ye  shall  be  able  to 
queuch  all  the  fiery  darts  of  the  wicked."     (Eph.  yi.  16.) 

2.  It  is  good,  also,  that  we  desire  of  the  King  a  convoy, 
yea,  that  he  will  go  with  us  himself.  This  made  David  re- 
joice when  in  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death ;  and  Moses 
was  rather  for  dying  where  he  stood,  than  to  go  one  step  with- 
out his  God.  (Ex.  xxxiii.  15.)  O  my  brother,  if  he  will  but 
go  along  with  us,  what  need  we  be  afraid  of  ten  thousands 
that  shall  set  themselves  against  us  ?  (Psa.  iii.  6-8;  xxvii.  1- 
3.)  But  without  him,  the  proud  helpers  "fall  under  the 
slain." 

I,  for  my  part,  have  been  in  the  fray  before  now ;  and  though 
(through  the  goodness  of  Him  that  is  best)  I  am,  as  you  see, 
alive,  yet  I  cannot  boast  of  my  manhood.  Glad  shall  I  be,  if 
I  meet  with  no  more  such  brunts;  though  I  fear  we  are  not  got 
beyond  all  danger.  However,  since  the  lion  and  the  bear 
have  not  as  yet  devoured  me,  I  hope  God  will  also  deliver  us 
from  the  next  uncircumcised  Philistine.     Then  sang  Christian, 

''Poor  Little-faith  !     Hast  been  among  the  thieves? 
Wast  robb'd?     Remember  this,  whoso  believes. 
And  gets  mote  faitli,  shall  then  a  victor  be 
Over  ten  thousand — else  scarce  over  three." 

So  they  went  on,  and  Ignorance  followed.  They  went  then  till 
they  came  at  a  place  where  they  saw  a  way  put  itself  into  their 
way,  and  seemed  withal  to  lie  as  straight  as  the  way  which  they 
should  go:  and  here  they  knew  not  which  way  to  take,  for 
both  seemed  straight  before  them ;  therefore  here  they  stood 
still  to  consider.  And  as  they  were  thinking  about  the  way, 
behold  a  man,  black  of  flesh  but  covered  with  a  very  light 
robe,  came  to  them,  and  asked  them  why  they  stood  there. 
They  answered  they  were  going  to  the  Celestial  City,  but 
knew  not  which  of  these  ways  to  take.  "Follow  me,"  said 
the  man,  "it  is  tliither  that  I  am  going."  So  they  followed 
him  in  the  way  that  but  now  came  into  the  road,  which  by 
degrees  turned  and  turned  them  so  from  the  city  that  they  de- 


132  A  SHINING  ONE  APPEARS. 

sired  to  go  to,  that  in  little  time  their  faces  were  turned 
away  from  it ;  yet  they  followed  him.  But  by  and  by,  before 
they  were  aware,  he  led  them  both  within  the  compass  of  a 
net,  in  which  chey  were  both  so  entangled  that  they  knew  not 
what  to  do;  and  with  that  the  white  robe  fell  off  the  black 
/man's  back.  Then  they  saw  where  they  were.  Wherefore 
there  they  lay  crying  some  time,  for  they  could  not  get  them- 
selves out. 

Then  said  Christian  to  his  fellow,  "Now  do  I  see  myself  in 
error.  Did  not  the  Shepherds  bid  us  beware  of  the  flatterers? 
As  in  the  saying  of  the  wise  men,  so  we  have  found  it  this 
day :  '  A  man  that  flattereth  his  neighbour  spreadeth  a  net  for 
his  feet.'"     (Prov.  xxix.  5.) 

Hope.  They  also  gave  us  a  note  of  directions  about  the  way, 
for  our  more  sure  finding  thereof;  but  therein  we  have  also 
forgotten  to  read,  and  have  not  kept  ourselves  from  the  paths 
of  the  destroyer.  Here  David  was  wiser  than  we;  for  saitli 
he,  "Concerning  the  works  of  men,  by  the  word  of  Thy  lips 
I  have  kept  me  from  paths  of  the  destroyer."     (Psa.  xvii.  4.) 

Thus  they  lay  bewailing  themselves  in  the  ne*:.  At  last  they 
espied  a  Shining  One  coming  toward  th'em,  with  a  whip  of 
small  cord  in  his  hand.  When  he  was  come  to  the  place 
where  they  were,  he  asked  them  whence  they  came,  and  what 
they  did  there. 

They  told  him  that  they  were  poor  pilgrims  going  to  Zion, 
but  were  led  out  of  their  way  by  a  black  man,  clothed  in 
white,  "  who  bid  us,"  said- they,  "follow  him,  for  he  was 
going  thither  too."  Then  said  he  with  the  whip,  "  It  is  Flat- 
terer, a  false  apostle,  that  hath  transformed  himself  into  an 
angel  of  light."  (Prov.  xxix.  5;  Dan.  xi.  32;  2  Cor.  xi.  13, 
14.)  So  he  rent  the  net,  and  let  the  men  out.  Then  said  he 
to  them,  "  Follow  me,  that  I  may  set  you  in  your  way  again.'' 
So  he  led  them  back  to  the  way  which  they  had  left  to  follow 
the  Flatterer.  Then  he  asked  them,  saying,  "Where  did  you 
lie  the  last  nigbt  ?"     They  said,  "With  the  Shepherds  upon 


A  MAN   WITH   HIS  BACK  TO   ZION.  133 

the  Delectable  Mountains."  He  asked  tliem  then,  if  they  had 
not  of  those  Shepherds  a  note  of  direction  for  the  way. 
They  answered,  ''Yes."  *'But  did  you,"  said  he,  "when 
you  were  at  a  stand,  pluck  out  and  read  your  note  ?  "  They 
answered  ''No."  He  asked  them,  ''Why  ?  "  They  said,  they 
forgot.  He  asked,  ii-oreover,  if  the  Shepherds  did  not  bid 
them  beware  of  the  Flatterer.  They  answered,  "Yes,  but 
we  did  not  imagine,"  said  they,  "  tliat  this  fine-spoken  man' 
had  been  be."     (Rom,  xvi.  18.) 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  he  commanded  them  to  lie 
down ;  which  when  they  did,  he  chastised  them  sore,  to  teach 
them  the  good  way  wherein  they  should  walk  (Deut.  xxv.  3; 
2  Chron.  vi.  26,  27);  and  as  he  chastised  them,  he  said,  "As 
many  as  J  love,  I  rebuke  and  chasten;  be  zealous,  therefore, 
and  repent."  (Rev.  iii.  19.)  This  done,  he  bid  them  go  on 
their  way,  and  take  good  lieod  to  the  other  directions  of  the 
Shepherds.  So  they  thanked  him  for  all  his  kindness,  and 
went  softly  along  the  right  ^  ay,  singing — 

*'  Come  hither,  you  that  walk  along  the  way  ; 
See  how  the  pilgrims  fare  that  go  astray  ! 
They  catched  are  in  an  entangling  net, 
'Cause  they  good  counsel  lightly  did  forget  : 
'T  is  true  they  rescued  were,  but  yet  you  see 
They  're  scourged  to  boot.     Let  this  your  caution  be." 

Now  after  a  while  they  perceived,  afar  off,  one  coming  softly 
and  alone,  all  along  the  highway  to  meet  them.  Then  said 
Christian  to  his  fellow,  "Yonder  is  a  man  with  his  back  to- 
ward Zion,  and  he  is  coming  to  meet  us." 

Hope.  I  see  him ;  let  us  take  heed  to  ourselves  now,  lest  he 
should  prove  a  flatterer  also.  So  he  drew  nearer  and  nearer, 
and  at  last  came  up  unto  them.  His  name  was  Atheist,  and 
he  asked  them  whither  they  were  going. 

Chr.  We  are  going  to  Mount  Zion.  Then  Atheist  fell  into 
at  very  great  laughter. 

Chr.  What  is  the  meaning  of  your  laughter  ? 


134  ATHEIST. 

Atheist.  I  laugh  to  see  what  ignorant  persons  you  are,  to 
take  upon  you  so  tedious  a  journey,  and  you  are  like  to  have 
nothing  but  your  travel  for  your  pains.     ♦ 

Chr.  Why,  man,  do  you  think  we  shall  not  be  received  ? 

•Atheist.  Received  !  There  is  no  such  place  as  you  dream  of 
in  all  this  world. 

Chr.  But  there  is  in  the  world  to  come. 

Atheist.  When  I  was  *at  home  in  mine  own  country,  I 
heard  as  you  now  affirm;  and  from  that  hearing  went  out  to 
see,  and  have  been  seeking  this  city  this  twenty  'years,  but 
find  no  more  of  it  than  I  did  the  first  day  I  set  out.  (Jer. 
xxii.  12;  Eccles.  x.  15.) 

Chr.  We  have  both  heard  and  believe  that  there  is  such  a 
place  to  be  found. 

Atheist.  Had  not  I,  when  at  honxe,  believed,  I  had  not 
come  thus  far  to  seek;  but  finding  none  (and  yet  I  should, 
had  there  been  such  a  place  to  be  found,  for  I  have  gone  to 
seek  it  further  than  you),  I  am  going  back  again,  and  will 
seek  to  refresh  myself  with  the  things  that  I  then  cast  away 
for  hopes  of  that  which,  I  now  see,  is  not. 

Then  said  Christian  to  Hopeful,  his  fellow,  "Is  it  true  which 
this  maQ  hath  said  ?  " 

Hope.  Take  heed;  he  is  one  of  the  flatterers;  remember 
what  it  hath  cost  us  once  already,  for  our  hearkening  to  such 
kind  of  fellows.  What !  no  Mount  Zion  ?  Did  we  not  see 
from  the  Delectable  Mountains,  the  gate  of  the  city  ?  Also, 
are  we  not  now  to  walk  by  faith  ?  (2  Cor.  v.  7.)  Let  us 
go  on,  lest  the  man  with  the  whip  overtake  us  again.  You 
should  have  taught  me  that  lesson,  which  I  will  round  you  in 
the  ears  with  all:  "Cease,  my  son,  to  hear  the  instruction 
that  causeth  to  err  from  the  words  of  knowledge."  (Prov. 
xix.  27.)  I  say,  my  brother,  cease  to  hear  him,  and  let  us 
"believe  to  the  saving  of  the  soul."     (Heb.  x.  39.) 

Chr.  My  brother,  I  did  not  put  the  question  to  thee  for 
that  I  doubted  of  the  truth  of  our  belief  myself;  but  to  prove 


HOPEFFL   GROWS   DROWSY.  135 

thee,  and  to  fetch  from  thee  a  fruit  of  the  honesty  of  thy 
heart.  As  for  this  man  I  know  that  he  is  blinded  by  the  god 
of  this  world.  Let  thee  and  I  go  on,  knowing  that  we  have 
belief  of  the  truth,  '*  and  no  lie  is  of  the  truth.'*  (1  John  ii. 
21.) 

Hope.     Now  do  I  rejoice  in  hope  of  the  glory  of  God. 

So  they  turned   away  from  the  man,  and  he,    laughing  at) 
them,  went  his  way.  ' 

I  saw  then  in  my  dream,  tliat  they  went  till  they  came  into 
a  certain  country  whose  air  naturally  tended  to  make  one 
drowsy,  if  he  came  a  stranger  into  it.  And  here  Hopeful  be-  > 
gan  to  be  very  dull  and  heavy  of  sleep  ;  wherefore  he  said 
unto  Christian,  ''I  do  now  begin  to  grow  so  drowsy  that  I 
can  scarcely  hold  up  mine  eyes;  let  us  lie  down  here  and  take 
one  nap." 

*'By  no  means,"  said  the  other;  "lest,  sleeping,  we  never 
awake  more." 

Hope.  Why,  my  brother  ?     Sleep  is  sweet  to  the  labouring 
'  man;  we  may  be  refreshed  if  we  take  a  nap. 

CnR.  Do  you  not  remember  that  one  of  the  Shepherds  bid  us 
beware  of  the  Enchanted  Ground  ?  He  meant  by  that,  that 
we  should  beware  of  sleeping.  "Therefore  let  us  not  sleep, 
as  do  others;  but  let  us  watch  and  be  sober."     (1  Thess.  v.  6.) 

Hope.  I  acknowledge  myself  in  a  fault;  and  had  I  been 
here  alone,  I  had  by  sleeping  run  the  danger  of  death.  I  see 
it  is  true  that  the  wise  man  saith,  "Two  are  better  than  one." 
(Eccles,  iv.  9.)  Hitherto  hath  thy  company  been  my  mercy; 
and  thou  shalt  have  a  good  reward  for  thy  labour.  / 

"Now  then,"  said  Christian,  "to  prevent  drowsiness  inj 
this  place,  let  us  fall  into  good  discourse." 

Hope.  With  all  my  heart. 

Chr.  Where  shall  we  begin  ? 

Hope.  Where  God  began  with  us.  But  do  you  begin,  if 
you  please. 

Gnu.  I  will  sing  you  first  this  song : 


136  A   SENSE  OF   SINFULNESS. 

"  When  saints  do  sleepy  grow,  let  tliem  come  hither 
And  hear  how  these  two  pilgrims  talk  together  ; 
Yea,  let  them  learn  of  them,  in  any  wise. 
Thus  to  keep  ope  their  drowsy,  slumb'ring  eyes, 
Saints'  fellowship,  if  it  be  managed  well, 
KeeY)S  them  awake,  and  that  in  spite  of  hell." 

Then  Christian  began,  and  said,  '*I  will  ask  you  a  question. 
How  came  you  to  think  at  first  of  doing  what  you  do  now  ? 

Hope.  Do  you  mean,  how  came  I  at  first  to  look  after  the 
good  of  my  soul  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  that  is  my  meaning. 

Hope.  I  continued  a  great  while  in  the  delight  of  those 
things  wliicli  were  seen  and  sold  at  our  fair;  things  which,  I 
believe  now,  would  have  (had  I  continued  in  them  still) 
drowned  me  in  perdition  and  destruction. 

Chr.  "What  things  are  they  ? 

Hope.  All  the  treasures  and  riches  of  the  world.  Also  1 
delighted  much  in  rioting,  revelling,  drinking,  swearing, 
lying,  uncleanness.  Sabbath  breaking,  and  what  not,  that 
tended  to  destroy  the  soul.  But  I  found  at  last,  by  hearing 
and  considering  of  things  that  are  divine,  which  indeed  I 
heard  of  you,  as  also  of  beloved  Faithful  that  was  put  to  death 
for  his  faith  and  good  living  in  Vanity  Fair,  that  *'the  end 
of  these  things  is  death."  (Rom.  vi.  21-23.)  And  that  for 
these  things'  sake  "cometh  the  wrath  of  God  upon  the  chil- 
dren of  disobedience."     (Eph.  v.  6.) 

Chr.  And  did  you  presently  fall  under  the  power  of  this 
conviction  ? 

Hope.  No ;  I  was  not  willing  presently  to  know  the  evil  of 
sin,  nor  the  damnation  that  follows  upon  the  commission  of 
it ;  but  endeavouerd  when  my  mind  at  first  began  to  be  shaken 
witli  the  Word,  to  shut  mine  eyes  against  the  light  thereof. 

Chr.  But  w^hat  was  the  cause  of  your  carrying  of  it  thus  to 
the  first  workings  of  God's  blessed  Spirit  upon  you  ? 

Hope.  The  causes  were — 1.  I  was  ignorant  that  this  was  the 
work  upon  me.     I  never  thought  that,  by  awakenings  for  sin, 


A  SENSE  OF   SINFULNESS.  137 

God  at  first  begins  the  conversion  of  a  sinner.  2.  Sii^  was 
yet  very  sweet  to  my  flesh,  and  I  was  loath  to  leave  it.  3.  I 
could  not  tell  how  to  part  with  mine  old  companions,  their 
presence  and  actions  were  so  desirable  unto  me.  4.  The 
hours  in  which  convictioas  were  upon  me  were  such  trouble- 
some and  such  hcart-affrigliting  hours,  that  I  could  not  bear, 
no,  not  so  much  as  the  remembrance  of  them,  upon  my  heart. 

Chr.  Then,  as  it  seems,  sometimes  you  got  rid  of  your 
trouble. 

Hope.  Yes,  verily;  but  it  would  come  into  my  mind  again, 
and  then  I  should  be  as  bad,  nay,  worse,  than  I  was  before. 

Chr.  Why,  what  was  it  that  brought  your  sins  to  mind 
again  ? 

Hope.  Many  things ;  as — 

1.  If  I  did  but  meet  a  good  man  in  the  streets;  or, 

2.  If  I  have  heard  any  read  in  the  Bible ;  or, 

3.  If  mine  head  did  begin  to  ache ;  or, 

4.  If  I  were  told  that  some  of  my  neighbours  were  sick ;  or, 

5.  If  I  heard  the  bell  toll  for  some  that  were  dead  ;  or, 

6.  If  I  thought  of  dying  myself;  or, 

7.  If  I  heard  that  sudden  death  happened  to  others; 

8.  But,  especially,  when  I  thought  of  myself,  that  I  must 
quickly  come  to  judgment. 

Chr.  And  could  you  at  any  time,  with  ease,  get  off  the 
guilt  of  sin,  when  by  any  of  these  ways  it  came  upon  you  ? 

Hope.  No,  not  I,  for  then  they  got  faster  hold  of  my  con- 
science ;  and  then,  if  I  did  but  think  of  going  back  to  sin 
(though  my  mind  was  turned  against  it),  it  would  be  double, 
torment  to  me. 

Chr.  And  how  did  you  do  then  ? 

Hope.  I  thought  I  must  endeavour  to  mend  my  life;  for 
else,  thought  I,  I  am  sure  to  be  damned. 

Chr.  And  did  you  endeavour  to  mend  ? 

Hope.  Yes,  and  fled  from  not  only  my  sins,  but  sinful  com- 
pany,  too;  and   betook  me  to  religious  duties,  as   praying, 


138  THE   LAW   WILL   NOT  JUSTIFY. 

reading,  weeping  for  sin,  speaking  truth  to  my  neighbours, 
etc.  These  things  did  I,  and  many  others,  too  much  here  to 
relate . 

Chr.  And  did  you  think  yourself  well  then  ? 

Hope.  Yes,  for  a  while ;  but  at  the  last,  my  trouble  came 
tumbling  upon  me  again,  and  that  over  the  neck  of  ail  my  ref- 
ormation. 

Chr.  How  came  that  about,  since  you  were  now  reformed  ? 

Hope.  There  were  several  things  brought  it  upon  me,  espe- 
cially such  sayings  as  these:  ''All  our  righteousnesses  are  as 
filthy  rags. "  (Isa.  Ixiv.  6.)  * '  By  the  works  of  the  law  shall  no 
flesh  be  justified."  (Gal.  ii.  16.)  *' When  ye  shall  have  done 
all  those  things,  say,  We  are  unprofitable  "  (Luke  xvii.  10) ; 
with  many  more  such  like.  From  whence  I  began  to  reason 
with  myself  thus :  If  all  my  righteousnesses  are  filthy  rags ; 
if  by  the  deeds  of  the  law  no  man  can  be  justified;  and  if, 
when  we  have  done  all,  we  are  yet  unprofitable ;  then  it  is  but 
a  folly  to  think  of  heaven  by  the  law.  I  further  thought 
thus:  If  a  man  runs  a  hundred  pounds  into  the  shopkeeper's 
debt,  and  after  that  shall  pay  for  all  that  he  shall  fetch,  yet 
if  this  old  debt  stands  still  in  the  book  uncrossed,  for  that 
the  shopkeeper  may  sue  him,  and  cast  him  into  prison  till  he 
shall  pay  the  debt. 

Chr.  Well,  and  liow  did  you  apply  this  to  yourself  ? 

Hope.  Why,  I  thought  thus  with  myself:  I  have,  by  my 
sins,  run  a  great  way  into  God's  book,  and  that  my  now  re- 
forming will  not  pay  off  that  score ;  therefore  I  should  think 
still,  under  all  my  present  amendments,  But  how  shall  I  be 
freed  from  that  damnation  that  I  have  brought  myself  in  dan- 
ger of,  by  my  former  transgressions  ? 

Chr.  A  very  good  application  :  but  pray  go  on. 

Hope.  Another  thing  that  hath  troubled  me,  even  since  my 
late  amendments,  is  that  if  I  look  narrowly  into  the  best  of 
what  I  do  now,  I  still  see  sin,  new  sin,  mixing  itself  with  the 
best  of  that  I  do ;  so  that  now  I   am  forced  to  conclude,  thai. 


HOPEFUL   HAS   FEARS.  139 

notwithstanding  mj  former  fond  conceits  of  myself  and  du- 
ties, I  have  committed  sin  enough  in  one  duty  to  send  me  to 
hell,  though  my  former  life  had  been  faultless. 

Chr.  And  what  did  you  do  then  ? " 

Hope.  Do !  I  could  not  tell  what  to  do,  until  I  brake  my 
mind  to  Faithful,  for  he  and  I  were  well  acquainted.  And 
he  told  me  that  unless  I  could  obtain  the  righteousness  of  a 
man  that  never  had  sinned,  neither  mine  own,  nor  all  the 
righteousness  of  the  world,  could  save  me. 

Chr.  And  did  you  think  he  spake  true  ! 

Hope.  Had  he  told  me  so  when  I  was  pleased  and  satisfied 
with  mine  own  amendments,  I  had  called  him  fool  for  his 
pains;  but  now,  since  I  see  my  own  infirmity,  and  the  sin  that 
cleaves  to  my  best  performance,  I  have  been  forced  to  be  of 
his  opinion. 

Chr.  But  did  you  think,  when  at  first  he  suggested  it  to 
you,  that  there  was  such  a  man  to  be  found,  of  whom  it 
might  justly  be  said  that  he  never  committed  sin  t 

Hope.  I  must  confess  at  first  the  words  sounded  strangely, 
but  alter  a  little  more  talk  and  company  with  him,  I  had  full 
conviction  about  it. 

CiiR.  And  did  you  ask  him  what  man  this  was,  and  how 
you  must  be  justified  by  'him. 

Hope.  Yes,  and  he  told  me  it  was  the  Lord  Jesus,  that 
dwelleth  on  the  right  hand  of  the  Most  High.  "  And  thus,'' 
said  he,  "you  must  be  justified  by  him,  even  by  trusting  to 
what  he  hath  done  by  himself,  in  the  days  of  his  flesh,  and 
suffered  when  he  did  hang  on  the  tree."  I  asked  him  further, 
how  that  Man's  righteousness  could  be  of  that  eflftcacy  to  jus-j  » 
tify  another  before  God  ?  And  he  told  me  he  was  the  mightyi 
God,  and  did  what  he  did,  and  died  the  death  also,  not  for 
himself,  but  for  me;  to  whom  his  doings,  and  the  worthiness 
of  them,  should  be  imputed,  if  I  believed  on  him.  (Heb.  x. ; 
Rom,  iv. ;  Col.  i.  ;  2  Pet.  i.) 

Chr.  And  what  did  you  do  then  ? 


140  ENCOURAGED   TO   COME   TO   CHRIST. 

Hope.  I  made  my  objections  against  my  believing,  for  that 
I  thought  he  was  not  willing  to  save  me. 

Chr.  And  what  said  Faithful  to  you  then  ? 

Hope.  He  bid  me  go  to  him  and  see.  Then  T  said  it  was 
presumption ;  but  he  said,  No,  for  I  was  invited  to  come. 
(Matt,  xi,  28.)  Then  he  gave  me  a  Book  of  Jesus,  his  indit- 
ing, to  encourage  me  the  more  freely  to  come ;  and  he  said, 
concerning  that  Book,  that  every  jot  and  tittle  thereof  stood 
firmer  than  heaven  and  earth.  (Matt.  xxiv.  35.)  Then  I 
asked  him  what  I  must  do  when  I  came ;  and  he  told  me  I 
must  entreat  upon  my  knees,  with  all  my  heart  and  soul,  the 
Father  to  reveal  him  to  me.  (Psa.  xcv.  6;  Dan.  vi.  10;  Jer. 
xxix.  12,  13.)  Then  I  asked  him  further,  how  I  must  make 
my  supplication  to  him.  And  he  said,  "Go,  and  thou  shalt 
find  him  upon  a  mercy-seat,  where  he  sits  all  the  year  long,  to 
give  pardon  and  forgiveness  to  them  that  come."  I  told  him 
that  I  knew  not  what  to  say  when  I  came;  and  he  bid  me  say 
to  this  effect:  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner,  and  make  me 
to  know  and  believe  in  Jesus  Christ ;  for  I  see  that  if  his 
righteousness  had  not  been,  or  I  have  not  faith  in  that  right- 
eousness, I  am  utterly  cast  away.  Lord,  I  have  heard  that 
thou  art  a  merciful  God,  and  hast  ordained  that  thy  Son  Jesus 
Christ  should  be  the  Saviour  of  the  world ;  and,  moreover, 
that  thou  art  willing  to  bestow  him  upon  such  a  poor  sinner 
as  I  am  (and  I  am  a  sinner  indeed) ;  Lord,  take  therefore  this 
opportunity,  and  magnify  thy  grace  in  the  salvation  of  my 
soul,  through  thy  Son  Jesus  Christ.  Amen.  (Ex.  xxv.  22; 
Lev.  xvi.  2;  Num.  vii.  89;  Heb.  iv.  16.) 

Chr.  And  did  you  do  as  you  were  bidden  ? 

Hope.  Yes;  over,  and  over,  and  over. 

Chr.  And  did  the  Father  reveal  his  Son  to  you  ? 

Hope.  Not  at  the  first,  nor  second,  nor  third,  nor  fourth, 
nor  fifth;  no,  nor  at  the  sixth  time,  neither. 

Chr,  What  did  you  do  then  ? 

Hope,  What !  why,  I  could  not  tell  what  to  do, 


IMPORTUNATE   PRAYER   IS   ANSWERED.  141 

Chr.  Had  you  not  thoughts  of  leaving  off  praying  ? 

Hope.  Yes;  an  hundred  times  twice  told 

Chr.  And  what  was  the  reason  you  did  not  ? 

Hope.  I  believed  that  that  was  true  which  he  had  told  me ; 
to  wit,  that  without  the  righteousness  of  this  Christ,  all  the 
world  could  not  save  me ;  and  therefore,  thought  I  with  my- 
self, if  I  leave  off  I  die,  and  I  can  but  die  at  the  throne  of 
grace.  And  withal,  this  came  into  my  mind,  *' Though  it 
tarry,  wait  for  it;  because  it  will  surely  come,  it  will  not 
tarry."  (Hab.  ii.  3.)  So  I  continued  praying  until  the 
Father  showed  me  his  Son. 

Chr.  And  how  was  he  revealed  unto  you  ? 

Hope.  I  did  not  see  him  with  my  bodily  eyes,  but  with  the 
eyes  of  my  understanding  (Eph.  i.  18,  19.)  ;  and  thus  it  was: 
One  day  I  was  very  sad,.  I  think  sadder  than  at  any  ono 
time  in  my  life,  and  this  sadness  was  througli  a  fresh  sight 
of  the  greatness  and  vileness  of  my  sins.  And  as  I  was  then 
looking  for  nothing  but  hell,  and  the  everlasting  damnation 
of  my  soul,  suddenly,  as  I  thought,  I  saw  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  look  down  from  heaven  upon  me,  saying,  "Believe  on 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  thou  shalt  be  saved."  (Acts  xvi. 
31.) 

Buf  I  replied,  "Lord,  I  am  a  great,  a  very  great  sinner." 
And  he  answered,  "My  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee."  (2  Cor. 
xii.9.)  I  said,  "But,  Lord,  what  is  believing?"  And  then  I  saw 
from  that  saying,  "He  that  cometh  to  me  shall  never  hunger, 
and  he  that  believeth  on  me  shall  never  thirst,"  that  believing 
and  coming  was  all  one;  and  that  he  that  came,  that  is,  ran 
out  in  his  heart  and  affections  after  salvation  by  Christ,  he 
indeed  believed  in  Christ.  (John  vi.  35.)  Then  the  water 
stood  in  mine  eyes,  and  I  asked  further,  "But,  Lord,  may 
such  a  great  sinner  as  I  am  be  indeed  accepted  of  thee,  and  be 
saved  by  thee?"  And  I  heard  him  say,  "And  him  that 
cometh  to  me  I  will  in  nowise  cast  out."  (John  vi.  37.)  The© 
I  said,  "But  how,  Lord,  must  I  consider  of  thee  in  my  com* 


142  CHRIST  REVEALED  TO  HOPEFUL. 

ing  to  thee,  that  my  faith  may  be  placed  aright  upon  thee 
Then  he  said,  "Christ  Jesus  came  into  the  world  to  save  sin- 
ners. (1  Sim.  i.  15.)  He  is  the  end  of  the  law  for  righteous- 
ness to  everyone  that  believeth.  (Rom.  x.  4.)  He  died  for 
our  sins,  and  rose  again  for  our  justification.  (Rom.  iv.  25.) 
He  loved  us,  and  washed  us  from  our  sins  in  his  own  blood 
(Rev.  i.  5.)  He  is  mediator  betwixt  God  and  us.  (1  Tim.  ii, 
5.)  He  ever  liveth  to  make  intercession  for  us."  (Heb.  vii.  25.) 
From  all  which  I  gathered  that  I  must  look  for  righteousness 
in  his  person,  and  for  satisfaction  for  my  sins  by  his  blood 
that  what  he  did  in  obedience  to  his  Father's  law,  and  in  sub 
mitting  to  the  penalty  thereof,  was  not  for  himself,  but  for 
him  that  will  accept  it  for  his  salvation  and  be  thankful.  And 
now  was  my  heart  full  of  joy,  mine  eyes  full  of  tears,  and 
mine  affections  running  over  with. love  to  the  name,  people, 
and  ways  ot  Jesus  Christ. 

Chr.  This  was  a  revelation  of  Christ  to  your  soul  indeed; 
but  tell  me  particularly  what  effect  this  had  upon  your  spirit. 

Hope.  It  made  me  see  that  all  the  world,  notwithstanding* 
all  the  righteousness  thereof,  is  in  a  state  of  condemnation. 
It  made  me  see  that  God  the  Father,  though  he  be  just,  can 
justly  justify  the  coming  sinner.  It  made  me  greatly  ashamed 
of  the  vileness  of  my  former  life,  and  confounded  me  with  the 
sense  of  mine  own  ignorance ;  for  there  never  came  thought 
into  my  heart  before  now  that  showed  me  so  the  beauty  of 
Jesus  Christ.  It  made  me  love  a  holy  life,  and  long  to  do 
something  for  the  honour  and  glory  of  the  name  of  the  Lord 
Jesus;  yea,  I  thought  that  had  I  now  a  thousand  gallons  of 
blood  in  my  body,  I  could  spill  it  all  for  the  sake  of  the  Lord 
Jesus. 

I  saw  then  in  my  dream  that  Hopeful  looked  back  and  saw 
Ignorance,  whom  they  had  left  behind,  coming  after.  ' '  Look, " 
said  he  to  Christian,  "how  far  yonder  youngster  loitereth  be- 
hind." 

Chr.  Ay,  ay,  I  see  him :  he  careth  not  for  our  company. 


IGNORANCE   COMES   UP  AGAIN.  143 

Hope.  But  I  trow  it  would  not  have  hurt  him  had  he  kept 
pace  with  us  hitherto. 

Che.  That  is  true;  but  I  warrant  you  he  thinketh  other- 
wise. 

Hope.  That,  I  think,  he  doth;  but,  however,  let  us  tarry 
for  him. 

So  they  did.  Then  Christian  said  to  him,  "Come  away, 
man,  why  do  you  stay  so  behind  ?  " 

Ignor.  I  take  my  pleasure  in  walking  alone,  even  more  a 
great  deal  than  in  company,  unless  I  like  it  the  better. 

Then  said  Christian  to  Hopeful  (but  softly),  ' '  Did  I  not  tell 
you  he  cared  not  for  our  company  ?  But,  however,"  said  he, 
*'come  up,  and  let  us  talk  away  the  time  in  this  solitary 
place."  Then  directing  his  speech  to  Ignorance,  he  said, 
*'Come,  how  do  you  ?  How  stands  it  between  God  and  your 
soul  now  ? " 

Ignor.  I  hope  well ;  for  I  am  always  full  of  good  motions, 
that  come  into  my  mind  to  comfort  me  as  I  walk. 

Chr.  What  good  motions  ?  pray  tell  us, 

Ignor.  Why,  I  think  of  God  and  heaven. 

Chr.  So  do  the  devils  and  damned  souls. 

Ignor.  But  I  think  of  them,  and  desire  them. 

Chr.  So  do  many  that  are  never  like  to  come  there.  '*  The 
soul  of  the  sluggard  desireth,  and  hath  nothing."  (Prov. 
xiii.  4.) 

Ignor.  But  I  think  of  them,  and  leave  all  for  them. 

Chr.  That  I  doubt;  for  leaving  all  is  a  hard  matter;  yea,  a 
harder  matter  than  many  are  aware  of.  But  why,  or  by  what, 
art  thou  persuaded  that  thou  hast  left  all  for  God  and  heaven  ? 

Ignor.  My  heart  tells  me  so. 

Chr.  The  wise  man  says,  "He  that  trusteth  in  his  own 
heart  is  a  fool."     (Prov.  xxviii.  26.) 

Ignor.  This  is  spoken  of  an  evil  heart,  but  mine  is  a  good 
one. 

Chr.  But  how  dost  thou  prove  that  ? 


144  HIS   SELF-GONCEIT. 

Ignor.  It  comforts  me  in  hopes  of  heaven. 

Chr.  That  may  be  through  its  deceitfulness;  for  a  man's 
heart  may  minister  comfort  to  him  in  the  hopes  of  that  thing 
for  which  he  has  yet  no  ground  to  hope.  ^ 

Ignor.  But  my  heart  and  life  agree  together,  and  therefore 
my  hope  is  well  grounded. 

Chr.  Who  told  thee  that  thy  heart  and  life  agree  together  ? 

Igkor.  My  heart  tells  me  so. 

Chr.  Ask  my  fellow  if  I  be  a  thief!  Thy  heart  tells  thee 
so !  Except  the  Word  of  God  beareth  witness  in  this  matter, 
other  testimony  is  of  no  value. 

Ignor.  But  is  it  not  a  good  heart  that  hath  good  thoughts  ? 
and  is  not  that  a  good  life  that  is  according  to  God's  com- 
mandments ? 

Chr.  Yes,  that  is  a  good  heart  that  hath  good  thoughts, 
and  that  is  a  good  life  that  is  according  to  God's  command- 
ments ;  but  it  is  one  thing  indeed  to  have  these,  and  another 
thing  only  to  think  so. 

Ignor.  Pray,  what  count  you  good  thoughts,  and  a  life  ac- 
cording to  God's  commandments  ? 

Chr.  There  are  good  thoughts  of  divers  kinds:  some  re- 
specting ourselves,  some  God,  some  Christ,  and  some  other 
things. 

Ignor.   What  be  good  thoughts  respecting  ourselves  ? 

Chr.  Such  as  agree  with  the  Word  of  God. 

Ignor.  When  do  our  thoughts  of  ourselves  agree  with  the 
Word  of  God  ? 

Chr.  When  we  pass  the  same  judgment  upon  ourselves 
which  the  Word  passes.  To  explain  myself:  the  Word  of 
God  saith  of  persons  in  a  natural  condition,  "There  is  none 
righteous,  there  is  none  that  doeth  good."  (^om.  iii.  10-12.) 
It  saith  also,  that  every  imagination  of  the  heart  of  man  is 
only  evil,  and  that  continually.  (Gen.  vi.  5.)  And  again, 
*'The  imagination  of  man's  heart  is  evil  from  his  youth." 
(Geu.  viii.  21,)    Now  then,  when  we  think  thus  of  ourselves, 


GOOD  THOUGHTS  CONCERNING  GOD.  145 

having  sense  thereof,  then  are  our  thoughts  good  ones,  be- 
cause according  to  the  Word  of  God. 

Tgnor.  I  will  never  believe  that  my  heart  is  thus  bad. 

Chr.  Therefore  thou  never  hadst  one  good  thought  con- 
cerning thyself  in  thy  life.  But  let  me  go  on.  As  the  Word 
passeth  a  judgment  upon  our  heart,  so  it  passeth  a  judgment 
upon  our  ways;  and  when  our  thoughts  of  our  hearts  and. 
ways  agree  with  the  judgment  which  the  Word  giveth  of 
both,  then  are  both  good,  because  agreeing  thereto. 

Ignor.  Make  out  your  meaning. 

Chr.  Why,  the  Word  of  God  saith  that  man's  ways  are 
crooked  ways;  not  good,  but  perverse.  (Psa.  cxxv.  5;,Prov. 
ii.  15.)  It  saith  they  are  naturally  out  of  the  good  way,  that 
they  have  not  known  it.  (Rom.  iii.  17.)  Now  when  a  man 
thus  tbinketh  of  his  ways — I  say,  when  he  doth  sensibly,  and 
with  heart-humiliation,  thus  think — then  hath  he  good 
thoughts  of  his  own  ways,  because  his  thoughts  now  agree 
with  the  judgment  of  the  Word  of  God. 

Ignor.  What  are  good  thoughts  concerning  God  ? 

Chr.  Even  (as  I  have  said  concerning  ourselves)  when  our 
thoughts  of  God  do  agree  with  what  ^he  Word  saith  of  him: 
and  that  is,  when  we  think  of  his  being  and  attributes  as  the 
Word  hath  taught,  of  which  I  cannot  now  discourse  at  large. 
But  to  speak  of  him  with  reference  to  us:  then  we  have  right 
thoughts  of  God,  when  we  think  that  he  knows  us  better  than 
we  know  ourselves,  and  can  see  sin  in  us  when  and  where  we 
can  see  none  in  ourselves;  when  we  think  he  knows  our  in- 
most thoughts,  and  that  our  heart,  with  all  its  depths,  is  al- 
ways open  unto  his  eyes:  also,  when  we  think  that  all  our 
righteousness  stinks  in  his  nostrils,  and  tnat  therefore  he  can- 
not abide  to  see  us  stand  before  him  in  any  confidence,  even 
in  all  our  best  performances. 

Ignor.  Do  you  think  that  I  am  such  a  fool  as  to  think  God 
can  see  no  further  than  I  ?  or  that  I  would  come  to  God  iu  the 
best  of  my  performances  ? 


146  THE  FAITH  OF  IGNORANCE. 

Chk.  Why,  how  dost  thou  think  in  this  matter  ? 

Ignor.  Why^  to  be  short,  I  think  I  must  believe  in  Christ 
for  justification. 

Chr.  How!  think  thou  must  believe  in  Christ,  when  thou 
seest  not  thy  need  of  him!  Thou  neither  seest  thy  original 
nor  actual  infirmities,  but  hast  such  an  opinion  of  thyself,  and 
of  what  thou  doest,  as  plainly  renders  thee  to  be  one  that  did 
never  see  a  necessity  of  Christ's  personal  righteousness  to 
justify  thee  before  God.  How  then  dost  thou  say,  I  believe 
in  Christ  ? 

Ignor.  I  believe  well  enough  for  all  that. 

Chr.  How  dost  thou  believe  ? 

Ignor.  I  believe  that  Christ  died  for  sinners,  and  that  I 
shall  be  justified  before  God  from  the  curse,  through  his 
gracious  acceptance  of  my  obedience  to  his  law.  Or  thus, 
Christ  makes  my  duties  that  are  religious  acceptable  to  his 
Father  by  virtue  of  his  merits;  and  so  shall  I  be  justified. 

Chr.  Let  me  give  an  answer  to  this  confession  of  thy  faith : 

1.  Thou  believest  with  a  fantastical  faith ;  for  this  faith  is 
nowhere  described  in  the  Word. 

2.  Thou,  believest  with  a  false  faith ;  because  it  taketh  jus- 
tification from  the  personal  righteousness  of  Christ,  and  ap- 
plies it  to  thy  own. 

3.  This  faith  maketh  not  Christ  a  jnstifier  of  thy  person, 
but  of  thy  actions ;  and  of  thy  person  for  thy  actions'  sake, 
which  is  false. 

4.  Therefore,  this  faith  is  deceitful,  even  such  as  will  leave 
thee  under  wrath,  in  the  day  of  God  Almighty.  For  true 
justifying  faith  puts  the  soul  (as  sensible  of  its  lost  condition 
by  the  law)  upon  flying  for  refuge  unto  Christ's  righteousness 
(which  righteousness  of  his  is  not  an  act  of  grace,  by  which 
he  maketh  for  justification  thy  obedience  accepted  by  God ; 
but  his  personal  obedience  to  the  law  in  doing  and  suffering 
for  us  what  that  required  at  our  hands):  this  righteousness,  I 
say,  true  faith  accepteth,  under  the  skirt  of  which,  the  soul 


IGNORANCE  JANGLES.  r  147 

being  shrouded,  and  by  it  presented  as  spotless  before  God, 
it  is  accepted,  and  acquit  from  condemnation. 

Ignor.  What!  would  you  have  us  trust  to  what  Christ,  in 
his  own  person,  has  done  without  us  ?  This  conceit  would 
loosen  the  reins  of  our  lust,  and  tolerate  us  to  live  as  we  list. 
For  what  matter  how  we  live,  if  we  may  be  justified  by 
Christ's  personal  righteousness  from  all,  when  we  believe  it  ? 
I  Chr.  Ignorance  is  thy  name,  and. as  thy  name  is,  so  art 
thou:  even  this  thy  answer  demonstrateth  what  I  say.  Igno- 
rant thou  art  of  what  justifying  righteousness  is,  and  as  igno- 
rant how  to  secure  thy  soul,  through  the  faith  of  it,  from  the 
heavy  wrath  of  God.  Yea,  thou  also  art  ignorant  of  the  true 
effects  of  saving  faith  in  this  righteousness  of  Christ,  which 
is,  to  bow  and  win  over  the  heart  to  God  in  Christ,  to  love 
his  name,  his  word,  ways,  and  people;  and  not  as  thou  igno- 
rantly  imaginest. 

Hope.  Ask  him  if  ever  he  had  Christ  revealed  to  him  from 
heaven  ? 

Ignor.  What!  you  are  a  man  for  revelations!  I  believe  that 
what  both  you,  and  all  the  rest  of  you,  say  about  that  matter 
is  but  the  fruit  of  distracted  brains. 

HoPE>  Why,  man!  Christ  is  so  hid  in  God  from  the  natural 
apprehensions  of  the  flesh,  that  he  cannot  by  any  man  be  sav- 
ingly known,  unless  God  the  Father  reveals  him  to  them. 

Ignor.  That  is  your  faith,  but  not  mine;  yet  mine,  I  doubt 
not,  is  as  good  as  yours,  though  I  have  not  in  my .  head  so 
many  whimsies  as  you. 

Chr.  Give  me  leave  to  put  in  a  word.  You  ought  not  so 
slightly  to  speak  of  this  matter;  for  this  I  will  boldly  affirm 
(even  as  my  good  companion  hath  done),  that  no  man  can  know 
Jesus  Christ  but  by  the  revelation  of  the  Father  (Matt.  xi. 
27;  1  Cor.  xii.  3);  yea,  and  faith  too,  by  which  the  soul  lay- 
eth  liold  upon  Christ  (if  it  be  right),  must  be  wrought  by 
the  exceeding  greatness  of  his  mighty  power;  the  working  of 
Which  faith,  I  perceive,  poor  Ignorance,  thou  art  ignorant  of. 


148        THE   PILGRIMS   TALK   OVER   THE  MATTER. 

(Eph.  i.  18,  19.)  Be  awakened,  then;  see  thine  own  wretcho 
ednsss,  and  fly  to  the  Lord  Jesus;  and  by  his  righteousness, 
which  is  the  righteousness  of  God  (for  he  himself  is  God), 
thou  shall  be  delivered  from  condemnation. 

Ignor.  You  go  so  fast,  I  cannot  keep  pace  with  you.  Do 
you  go  on  before ;  I  must  stay  awhile  behind. 

Then  they  said  : 

"  Well,  Ignorance,  wilt  thou  yet  foolish  he, 
To  slight  good  counsel  ten  times  given  thee  ? 
And  if  thou  yet  refuse  it,  thou  shalt  know 
Ere  long  the  evil  of  thy  doing  so. 
Remember,  man,  in  time;  stoop,  do  not  fear; 
Good  counsel,  taken  well,  saves  :  therefore  hear. 
But  if  thou  yet  shalt  slight  it,  thou  wilt  be 
The  loser,  Ignorance,  I'll  warrant  thee." 

.Then  Christian  addressed  thus  himself  to  his  fellow: 
''Well,  come,  my  good  Hopeful,  I  perceive  that  thou  and  I 
must  walk  by  ourselves  again." 

So  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  they  went  on  apace  before,  and 
Ignorance  he  came  hobbling  after.  Then  said  Christian  to  his 
companion,  "It  pities  me  much  for  this  poor  man:  it  will 
certainly  go  ill  with  him  at  last." 

Hope.  Alas!  there  are  abundance  in  our  town  in  his  con- 
dition, whole  families,  yea,  whole  streets  (and  that  of  pil- 
grims, too) ;  and  if  there  be  so  many  in  our  parts,  how  many, 
think  you,  must  there  be  in  the  place  where  he  was  born  ? 

Chr.  Indeed,  the  Word  saith,  ''He  hath  blinded  their 
eyes,  lest  they  should  see,"  etc.  But  now  we  are  by  ourselves, 
what  do  you  think  of  such  men  ?  Have  they  at  no  time,  think 
you,  convictions  of .  sin,  and  so  consequently  fears  that  their 
state  is  dangerous  ? 

Hope.  Nay,  do  you  answer  that  question  yourself,  for  your 
are  the  elder  man. 

Chr.  Thcnl  say,  sometimes  (as  I  think)  they  may;  but  they, 
being  naturally  ignorant,  understand  not  that  such   con  vie- 


THE   FEAR  OF   THE   LORD.  149 

tions  tend  to  their  good;  and  therefore  they  do  desperately 
seek  to  stifle  them,  and  presumptuously  continue  to  flatter 
themselves  in  the  way  of  their  own  hearts. 

Hope.  I  do  believe,  as  you  say,  that  fear  tends  much  to 
men's  good,  and  to  make  them  right,  at  their  beginning  to  go 
on  pilgrimage. 

Chr.  Without  all  doubt  it  doth,  if  it  be  right ;  for  so  says 
the  Word,  "The  fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom." 
(Prov.  i.  7;  ix.  10;  Psa.  cxi.  10;  Job  xxviii.  28.) 

Hope.  How  will  you  describe  right  fear. 

Chr.  True  or  right,  fear  is  discovered  by  three  things : 

1.  By  its  rise;  it  is  caused  by  saving  convictions  for  sin. 

2.  It  driveth  the  soul  to  lay  fast  hold  of  Christ  for  salva- 
tion. 

3.  Itbegetteth  and  continueth  in  the  soul  a  great  reverence 
bf  God,  his  Word  and  ways,  keeping  it  tender, and  making  it 
afraid  to  turn  from  them,  to  the  right  hand  or  to  the  left,  to 
anything  that  may  dishonour  God,  break  its  peace,  grieve  the 
Spirit,  or  cause  the  enemy  to  speak  reproachfully. 

Hope.  Well  said ;  I  believe  you  have  said  the  truth.  Are 
we  now  almost  got  past  the  Enchanted  Ground  ? 

Chr.  Why  ?  art  thou  weary  of  this  discourse  ? 

Hope.  No,  verily,  but  that  I  would  know  where  we  are. 

Chr,  We  have  not  now  above  two  miles  further  to  go  there*. 
on.  But  let  us  return  to  our  matter.  Now  the  ignorant  know 
not  that  such  convictions  as  tend  to  put  them  in  fear  are  for 
their  good,  and  therefore  they  seek  to  stifle  them. 

Hope.  How  do  they  seek  to  stifle  them  ? 

Chr.  1.  They  think  that  those  fears  are  wrought  by  the 
devil  (though  Indeed  they  are  wrought  of  God) ;  and,  thinking 
so,  they  resist  them  as  things  that  directly  tend  to  their  over- 
throw. 2.  They  also  think  that  these  fears  tend  to  the  spoil- 
ing of  their  faith  (when,  alas  for  them,  poor  men  that  they 
are!  they  liave  none  at  all),  and  therefore  they  harden  their 
hearts  against  them.    3.  They  presume  they  ought  not  to  fear; 


150  THE   MAN   TEMPORARY. 

and  therefore,  in  despite  of  them,  wax  presumptuously  confi- 
dent 4.  They  see  that  those  fears  tend  to  take  away  from 
them  their  pitiful  old  self-holiness,  and  therefore  they  resist 
them  with  all  their  might. 

Hope.  I  know  something  of  this  myself;  for  before  I  knew 
myself  it  was  so  with  me. 

CiiR.  Well,  we  will  leave  at  this  time  our  neighbour  Igno- 
rance by  himself,  and  fall  upon  another  profitable  question. 

Hope.  With  all  my  heart,  but  you  shall  still  begin. 

Chr.  Well,  then,  did  you  not  know,  about  ten  years  ago, 
one  Temporary  in  your  parts,  who  was  a  forward  man  in  re« 
ligion  then  ?    , 

Hope.  Know  him !  yes,  he  dwelt  in  Graceless,  a  town  about 
two  miles  off  of  Honesty,  and  he  dwelt  next  door  to  one  Turn- 
back. 

Chr.  Right;  he  dwelt  under  the  same  roof  with  him. 
Well,  that  man  was  much  awakened  once:  I  believe  that 
then  he  had  some  sight  of  his  sins,  and  of  the  wages  that  were 
due  thereto. 

Hope.  I  am  of  your  mind,  for  (my  house  not  being  above 
three  miles  from  him)  he  would  ofttimes  come  to  me,  and  that 
with  many  tears.  Truly  I  pitied  the  man,  and  was  not  alto- 
gether without  hope  of  him ;  but  one  may  see  it  is  not  every 
one  that  cries,  "Lord,  Lord." 

Chr.  He  told  me  once  that  he  was  resolved  to  go  on  pilgrim- 
age, as  we  go  now ;  but  all  of  a  sudden  he  grew  acquainted 
with  one  Save-self,  and  then  he  became  a  stranger  to  me. 

Hope.  Now,  since  we  are  talking  about  him,  let  us  a  little 
inquire  into  the  reason  of  the  sudden  backsliding  of  him  and 
such  others. 

Chr.  It  may  be  very  profitable,  but  do  you  begin. 

Hope.  Well  then,  there  are  in  my  judgment  four  reasons 
for  it : 

1.  Though  the  consciences  of  such  men  are  awakened,  yet 
their  minds  are  not  changed;  therefore,  wKen  the  power  of 


WHY   SOME   TURN   BACK.  151 

guilt  weareth  away,  that  wbich  provoked  tliem  to  be  religious 
ceaseth,  wherefore  they  naturally  turn  to  their  own  course 
again:  even  as  we  see  the  dog  that  is  sick  of  what  he  has 
eaten,  so  long  as  his  sickness  prevails,  he  vomits  and  casts  up 
all ;  not  that  he  doth  this  of  a  free  mind  (if  we  may  say  a  dog 
has  a  mind),  but  because  it  troubleth  his  stomach ;  but  now, 
when  his  sickness  is  over,  and  so  his  stomach  eased,  his  desire 
being  not  at  all  alienate  from  his  vomit,  he  turns  him  about 
and  licks  up  all;  and  so  it  is  true  which  is  written,  "The  dog 
is  turned  to  his  own  vomit  again."  (2  Pet.  ii.  22.)  Thus,  I 
say,  being  hot  for  heaven  by  virtue  only  of  the  sense  and  fear 
of  the  torments  of  hell,  as  their  sense  of  hell,  and  the  fears  of 
damnation,  chills  and  cools,  so  their  desires  for  heaven  and 
salvation  cool  also.  So  then  it  comes  to  pass,  that  when  their 
guilt  and  fear  is  gone,  their  desires  for  heaven  and  happiness 
die,  and  they  return  to  their  course  again. 

2.  Another  reason  is,  they  have*  slavish  fears  that  do  over- 
master them.  I  speak  now  of  the  fears  that  they  have  of  men, 
for  "the  fear  of  man  bringeth  a  snare."  (Prov.  xxix.  25.) 
So  then,  though  they  seem  to  be  hot  for  heaven  so  long  as  the 
flames  of  hell  are  about  their  ears,  yet  when  that  terror  is  a 
little  over,  they  betake  themselves  to  second  thoughts; 
namely,  that  it  is  good  to  be  wise,  and  not  to  run  (for  they 
know  not  what)  the  hazard  of  losing  all,  or,  at  least,  of  bring- 
ing themselves  into  unavoidable  and  unnecessary  troubles; 
and  so  they  fall  in  with  the  world  again. 

3.  The  shame  that  attends  religion  lies  also  as  a  block 
in  their  way:  they  are  proud  and  haughty,  and  religion  in 
their  eye  is  low  and  contemptible;  therefore,  when  they  have 
lost  their  sense  of  hell  and  wrath  to  come,  they  return  again 
t/j  their  former  course. 

4.  Guilt,  and  to  meditate  terror,  are  grievous  to  theai: 
■*,hey  like  not  to  see  their  misery  before  they  come  into  it; 
though  perhaps  the  sight  of  it  first,  if  they  loved  that  sight, 
might  make  them  fly  whither  the  righteous  fly  and  are  safe. 


152      HOW  THE  APOSTATE  GOES  BACK. 

But  because  they  do,  as  I  hinted  before,  even  shun  the 
thoughts  of  guilt  and  terror,  therefore,  when  once  they  are 
rid  of  their  awakenings  about  the  terrors  and  wrath  of  God,^ 
they  harden  their  hearts  gladly,  and  choose  such  ways  as  will 
harden  them  more  and  more. 

Chr.  You  are  pretty  near  the  business,  for  the  bottom  of 
all  is,  for  want  of  a  change  in  their  mind  and  will.  And  there- 
fore they  are  but  like  the  felon  that  standeth  before  the 
judge:  he  quakes  and  trembles,  and  seems  to  repent  most 
heartily,  but  the  bottom  of  all  is  the  fear  of  the  halter;  not 
that  he  hath  any  detestation  of  the  offence,  as  is  evident,  be- 
cause, let  but  this  man  have  his  liberty,  and  he  will  be  a  thief, 
and  so  a  rogue  still ;  whereas,  if  his  mind  was  changed,  he 
would  be  otherwise. 

Hope.  Now  I  have  showed  you  the  reasons  of  their  going 
back,  do  you  show  me  the  manner  thereof. 

Chr.  So  I  will  willingly. 

1.  They  draw  off  their  thoughts,  all  that  they  may,  from  the 
remembrance  of  God,  death,  and  judgment  to  come. 

2.  Then  they  cast  off  by  degrees  private  duties,  as  closet 
prayer,  curbing  their  lusts,  watching,  sorrow  for  sin,  and  the 
like. 

3.  Then  they  shun  the  company  ol  lively  and  warm  Chris- 
tians. 

4.  After  that  they  grow  cold  to  public  duty,  as  hearing, 
reading,  godly  conference,  and  the  like. 

5.  Then  they  begin  to  pick  holes,  as  we  say,  in  the  coats  of 
some  of  the  godly,  and  that  devilishly,  that  they  may  have 
'a  seeming  colour  to  throw  religion  (for  the  sake  of  some  in- 
firmity they  have  espied  in  them)  behind  their  backs. 

6.  Then  they  begin  to  adhere  to,  and  associate  themselves 
with,  carnal,  loose,  and  wanton  men. 

7.  Then  they  give  way  to  carnal  and  wanton  discourses  in 
secret ;  and  glad  are  they  if  they  can  see  such  things^  in  any 
that  are  counted  honest,  that  they  may  the  more  boldly  do  it 
through  their  example. 


JOYS  OF  THE   LAND.  153 

8.  After  this,  they  begin  to  play  with  little  sins  openly. 

9.  And  then,  being  hardened,  they  show  themselves  as  they 
are.  Thus,  being  launched  again  into  the  gulf  of  misery,  un- 
less a  miracle  of  grace  prevent  it,  they  everlastingly  perish  in 
their  own  deceivings. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  by  this  time  the  pilgrims 
were  got  over  the  Enchanted  Ground,  and  entering  into  the 
country  of  Beulah,  whose  air  was  very  sweet  and  pleasant,  the 
way  lying  directly  through  it,  they  solaced  themselves  there 
for  a  season.  (Isa.  Ixii.  4.)  Yea,  here  they  heard  continual- 
ly the  singing  of  birds,  and  saw  every  day  the  flowers  appear 
on  the  earth,  and  heard  the  voice  of  the  turtle  in  the  laud. 
(Solomon's  Song  ii.  10-12.)  In  this  country  the  sun  shineth 
night  and  day;  wherefore  this  was  beyond  the  Valley  of  the 
Shadow  of  Death,  and  also  out  of  the  reach  of  Giant  Despair, 
neither  could  they  from  this  place  so  much  as  see  Doubting 
Castle.  Here  they  were  within  sight  of  the  city  they  were 
going  to,  also  here  met  them  some  of  the  inhabitants  thereof; 
for  in  this  land  the  Shining  Ones  commonly  walked,  because 
it  was  upon  the  borders  of  heaven.  In  this  land  also,  the  con- 
tract between  the  bride  and  the  Bridegroom  was  renewed; 
yea,  here,  "As  the  bridegroom  rejoiceth  over  the  bride,  so 
did  their  God  rejoice  over  them."  (Isa.  Ixxii.  5,  8,  11,  12.) 
Here  they  had  no  want  of  corn  and  wine ;  for  in  this  place 
they  met  with  abundance  of  what  they  had  sought  for  in  all 
their  pilgrimage.  Here  they  heard  voices  from  out  of  the 
city,  loud  voices  saying,  "  Say  ye  to  the  daughter  of  Zion,  Be- 
hold, thy  salvation  cometli!  Behold,  his  reward  is  with 
him!"  Here  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  country  called  them, 
"  The  holy  people,"  "  The  redeemed  of  the  Lord,"  "Sought 
out,"  etc. 

Now,  as  they  walked  in  this  land,  tlicy  had  more  rejoicing 
than  in  parts  more  remote  from  the  kingdom  to  which  they 
were  bound;  and,  drawing  near  to  the  city,  they  had  yet  a 
more  perfect  view  thereof.     It  was  builded  of  pearls  and  pre- 


154    ^  MINISTERING   SPIRITS. 

cious  stones,  also  the  street  thereof  -was  paved  with  gold ;  so 
that  by  reason  of  the  natural  glory  of  the  city,  and  the  re- 
flection of  the  sunbeams  upon  it,  Christian  with  desire  fell 
sick ;  Hopeful  also  had  a  fit  or  two  of  the  same  disease. 
Wherefore,  here  they  lay  by  it  a  while,  crying  out,  because  of 
their  pangs,  *'  If  ye  find  my  Beloved,  tell  him  that  I  am  sick 
of  love." 

But,  being  a  little  strengthened,  and  better  able  to  bear  their 
sickness,  they  walked  on  their  way,  and  came  yet  nearer  and 
nearer,  where  were  orchards,  vineyards,  and  gardens,  and 
their  gates  opened  ii^to  the  highway.  Now,  as  they  came  up 
to  these  places,  behold  the  gardener  stood  in  the  way,  to 
whom  the  pilgrims  said,  '*  Whose  goodly  vineyards  and  gar- 
dens are  these  ?  "  He  answered,  ^'They  are  the  King's,  and 
are  planted  here  for  his  own  delight,  and  also  for  the  solace 
of  pilgrims."  So  the  garrlener  had  them  into  the  vineyards, 
and  bid  them  refresh  themselves  with  dainties.  (Deut.  xxiii. 
24.)  He  also  showed  them  there  the  King's  walks,  and  the 
arbours  where  he  delighted  to  be;  and  here  they  tarried  and 
slept. 

Now  I  beheld  in  my  dream,  that  they  talked  more  in  their 
sleep  at  this  time  than  ever  they  did  in  all  their  journey;  and 
being  in  a  muse  thereabout,  the  gardener  said  even  to  me, 
''Wherefore  musest  thou  at  the  matter  ?  It  is  the  nature  of 
the  fruit  of  the  grapes  of  these  vineyards  to  go  down  so 
sweetly  as  to  cause  the  lips  of  them  that  are  asleep  to  speak." 

So  I  saw  that  when  they  awoke,  they  addressed  themselves 
to  go  up  to  the  city ;  but,  as  I  said,  the  reflection  of  the  sun 
upon  the  city  (for  "  the  city  was  pure  gold")  (Rev,  xxi.  18) 
was  so  extremely  glorious,  that  they  could  not,  as  yet,  with 
open  face  behold  it,  but  through  an  instrument  made  for  that 
purpose.  (2  Cor.  iii.  18.)  So  I  saw  that  as  they  went  on, 
there  met  them  two  men,  in  raiment  that  shone  like  gold ;  also 
their  faces  shone  as  the  light. 

These  men  asked  the  pilgrims  whence  they  came;  and  they 


A  DEEP  RIVER.  155 

told  them.  They  also  asked  them  where  they  had  lodged, 
what  difficulties  and  dangers,  what  comforts  and  pleasures, 
they  had  met  in  the  way ;  and  they  told  them.  Then  said  the 
men  that  met  them,  *' You  have  but  two  difficulties  more  to 
meet  with,  and  then  you  are  in  the  city." 

Christian  then,  and  his  companion,  asked  the  men  to  go 
along  with  them;  so  they  told  them  they  would.  "But,'' 
said  they,  "you  must  obtain  it  by  your  own  faith."  So  T  saw 
in  my  dream  that  they  went  on  together,  till  they  came  in 
sight  of  the  gate. 

.  ^ow  I  further  saw,  that  betwixt  them  and  tlie  gate  was  a 
river,  but  there  was  no  bridge  to  go  over:  the  river  was  very 
deep.  At  the  sight,  therefore,  of  this  river,  the  pilgrims 
were  much  stunned ;  but  the  men  that  went  with  them  said, 
"You  must  go  through,  or  you  cannot  come  at  the  gate." 

The  pilgrims  then  began  to  inquire  if  there  was  no  other 
way  to  the  gate;  to  which  they  answered,  "Yes;  but  there 
hath  not  any,  save  two,  to  wit,  Enoch  and  Elijah,  been  per- 
mitted to  tread  that  path,  since  the  foundation  of  the  world, 
nor  shall  until  the  last  trumpet  shall  sound."  (1  Cor.  xv.  51, 
52.)  The  pilgrims  then,  especially  Christian,  began  to  de- 
spond in  their  minds,  and  looked  this  way  and  that,  but  no 
way  could  be  found  by  them  by  which  they  might  escape  the 
river.  Then  they  asked  the  men  if  the  waters  were  all  of  a 
depth.  They  said,  "No;"  yet  they  could  not  help  them  in 
that  case  ;  "for,"  said  they,  "you  shall  find  it  deeper  or  shal- 
lower, as  you  believe  in  the  King  of  the  pi  ice." 

They  then  addressed  themselves  to  the  water;  and  entering, 
Christian  began  to  sink,  and  crying  out  to  his  good  friend 
Hopeful,  he  said,  "I  sink  in  deep  waters;  the  billows  go  over 
my  head,  all  his  waves  go  over  me!     Selah." 

Then  said  the  other,  "Be  of  good  cheer,  my  brother;  I  feel 
the  bottom,  and  it  is  good."  Then  said  Christian,  "Ah!  my 
friend,  '  the  sorrows  of  death  have  compassed  me  about ; '  1 
shall  not  see  the  land  that  flows  with  milli  and  honey."    And 


156  THE  LAST   CONFLICT. 

with  that  a  great  darkness  and  horror  fell  upon  Christian,  so 
that  he  could  not  see  before  him.  Also  here  he  in  great  meas- 
ure lost  his  senses,  so  that  he  could  neither  remember  nor 
orderly  talk  of  any  of  those  sweet  refreshments  that  he  had 
met  with  in  the  way  of  his  pilgrimage.  But  all  the  words 
that  he  spake  still  tended  to  discover  that  he  had  horror  of 
miud  and  heart,  fears  that  he  should  die  in  that  river,  and 
never  obtain  entrance  in  at  the  gate.  Here  also,  as  they  that 
stood  by  perceived,  he  was  much  in  the  troublesome  thoughts 
of  the  sins  that  he  had  committed,  both  since  and  before  he 
began  to  be  a  pilgrim.  It  was  also  observed  that  he  was 
troubled  with  apparitions  of  hobgoblins  and  evil  spirits ;  for 
ever  and  anon  he  would  intimate  so  much  by  words.  Hope- 
ful therefore  here  had  much  ado  to  keep  his  brother's  head 
above  water;  yea,  sometimes  he  would  be  quite  gone  down, 
and  then,  ere  a  while,  he  would  rise  up  again  half  dead. 
Hopeful  also  would  endeavour  to  comfort  him,  saying, 
*' Brother,  I  see  the  gate,  and  men  standiug  by  to  receive 
us;"  but  Christian  would  answer,  *'It  is  you,  it  is  you  they 
wait  for;  you  have  been  Hopeful  ever  since  I  knew  you." 
*'And  so  have  you,"  said  he  to  Christian.  '*Ah,  brother!" 
said  he,  "surely  if  I  was  right  he  would  now  arise  to  help 
me ;  but  for  my  sins  he  hath  brought  me  into  the  snare,  and 
hath  left  me."  Then  said  Hopeful,  "My  brother,  you  have 
quite  forgot  the  text,  where  it  is  said  of  the  wicked,  '  There 
are  no  bands  in  their  death,  but  their  strength  is  firm.  They 
are  not  in  trouble  as  othef  men,  neither  are  they  plagued  like 
other  men.'  (Psa.  Ixxiii.  4,  5.)  These  troubles  and  distresses 
that  you  go  through  in  these  waters  are  no  sign  that  God  hath 
forsaken  you;  but  are  sent  to  try  you,  whether  you  will  call 
to  mind  that  which  you  have  heretofore  received  of  his  good- 
ness, and  live  upon  him  in  your  distresses," 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  Christian  was  as  in  a  muse 
awhile.  To  whom  also  Hopeful  added  this  word,  "Be  of 
good  cheer^     Jesus  Christ  maketh  thee  whole ;  "  and  with  tha> 


WHAT  THE   SHINING  ONES  SAID.  157 

Christian  broke  out  with  a  loud  voice,  "Oh,  I  see  him  again  1 
and  he  tells  me,  '  When  thou  passeth  through  the  waters,  I 
will  be  with  thee;  and  through  the  rivers,  they  siiall  not  over- 
flows^ thet.'"  (Isa.  xliii.  2.)  Then  they  both  took  courage, 
and  the  enemy  was  after  that  as  still  as  a  stone,  until  they 
were  gone  over.  Christian,  therefore,  presently  found  ground 
to  stand  upon;  and  so  it  followed  that  the  rest  of  the  river 
was  but  shallow.  Thus  they  got  over.  Now  upon  the  bank 
of  the  river,  on  the  other  side,  they  saw  the  two  Shining  Men 
again,  who  there  waited  for  them.  Wherefore,  being  come 
out  of  the  river,  they  saluted  them,  saying,  "We  are  minister- 
ing spirits,  sent  forth  to  minister  for  them  who  shall  be  heirs 
of  salvation."     Thus  they  went  along  towards  the  gate.      ^^  ^ 

Now  you  must  note  that  the  City  stood  upon  a  mightyliill, 
but  the  pilgrims  went  up  that  hill  with  ease,  because  they  had 
these  two  men  to  lead  them  up  by  the  arms ;  also,  they  had 
left  their  mortal  garments  behind  them  in  the  river,  for  though 
they  went  in  with  them,  they  came  out  without  them.  They 
therefore  went  up  here  with  much  agility  and  speed,  though 
the  foundation  upon  which  the  city  was  framed  was  higher 
than  the  clouds.  They  therefore  went  up  through  the  regions 
of  the  air,  sweetly  talking  as  they  went,  being  comforted,  be- 
cause they  safely  got  over  the  river,  and  had  such  glorious 
companions  to  attend  them. 

The  talk  they  had  with  the  Shining  Ones  was  about  the 
glory  of  the  place;  who  told  them  that  the  beauty  and  glory 
of  it  was  inexpressible.  "There,"  said  they,  "  is  the  Mount 
Zion,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  the  innumerable  company  of 
angels,  and  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect.  (Ileb.  xii. 
22-24.)  You  are  going  now,"  said  they,  "  to  the  paradise  of 
God,  wherein  you  shall  see  the  tree  of  life,  and  eat  of  the  never- 
fading  fruits  thereof,  and  when  you  come  there,  you  siiall  have 
white  robes  given  you,  and  your  walk  and  talk  shall  be  every 
day  with  the  King,  even  all  the  days  of  eternity.  (Rev.  ii.  7; 
iii.  4;  xxii.  5.)     There  you  shall  not  see  again  such  things  as 


158  WHAT   THE   SHIISFING   ONES   SAID. 

you  su^  v^>2n  you  were  in  the  lower  region  upon  the  earth; 
to  wit,  sorrow,  sickness,  affliction,  and  death,  *for  the  former 
things  are  passed  away.'  You  are  now  going  to  Abraham,  to 
Isaac,  and  Jacob,  and  to  the  prophets;  men  that  God  hath 
taken  away  from  the  evil  to  come,  and  that  are  now  resting  on 
their  beds,  each  odc  walking  in  his  uprightness."  (Isa.  l\ii. 
1,  2.)  The  men  then  asked,  ''  What  must  we  do  in  that  holy 
place  ?  "  To  whom  it  was  answered,  *'  You  must  thera  receive 
the  comforts  of  all  your  toil,  and  have  joy  for  all  your  sorrow? 
you  must  reap  what  you  have  sown,  even  the  fruit  of  all  your 
prayers  and  tears,  and  sufferings  for  the  King  by  th«  way. 
(Gal.  vi.  7.)  In  that  place  you  must  wear  crowns  of  go\c\  und 
enjoy  the  perpetual  sight  and  vision  of  the  Holy  One-  for 
*  there  you  shall  see  him  as  he  is.'  (1  John  iii.  2.)  There  ulso 
you  shall  serve  him  continually  with  praise,  with  shouting  and 
thanksgiving,  whom  you  desired  to  serve  in  the  world,  thc^ngh 
with  much  difficulty,  because  of  the  infirmity  of  your  fl^«h. 
There  your  eyes  shall  be  delighted  with  seeing,  and  your  *>.ar» 
with  hearing  the  pleasant  voice  of  the  Mighty  One.  There 
you  shall  enjoy  your  friends  again  that  are  gone  thither  be- 
fore you;  and  there  you  shall  with  joy  receive  even  every  one 
that  follows  into  the  holy  place  after  you.  There  also  shall 
you  be  clothed  with  glory  and  majesty,  and  put  into  an  equi- 
page fit  to  ride  out  with  the  King  of  glory.  When  he  shall 
come  with  sound  of  trumpet  in  the  clouds,  as  upon  the  wiwga 
of  the  wind,  you  shall  come  with  him;  and  when  he  shall  sit 
upon  the  throne  of  judgment,  you  shall  sit  by  him;  yea,  ?^nd 
when  he  shall  pass  sentence  upon  all  the  workers  of  iniquity, 
let  them  be  angels  or  men,  you  also  shall  have  a  voice  in  that 
judgment,  because  they  were  his  and  your  enemies  (1  Thess. 
iv.  13-17;  Jude  14;  Dan.  vii.  9,  10;  1  Cor.  vi.  2,  3.)  Also, 
when  he^  shall  again  return  to  the  city,  you  shall  go  too,  with 
sound  of  trumpet,  and  be  ever  with  him." 

Now  while  they  were  thus  drawing  towards  the  gate,  be- 
hold a  company  of  the  heavenly  host  came  out  to  meet  themj 


THE   KING'S   TRUMPETERS.  159 

to  whom  it  was  said,  by  the  other  two  Shining  Ones,  **  These 
are  the  men  that  have  loved  our  Lord  when  they  were  in  the 
world,  and  that  have  left  all  for  his  holy  name;  and  he  hath 
sent  us  to  fetch  them,  and  we  have  brought  them  thus  far  on 
their  desired  journey,  that  they  may  go  in  and  look  their  Re- 
deemer in  the  face  with  joy."  Then  the  heavenly  host  gave  a 
great  shout,  saying,  *' Blessed  are  they  which  are  called  unto 
the  marriage  supper  of  the  Lamb."  There  came  out  also  at 
this  time  to  meet  them  several  of  the  King's  trumpeters, 
clothed  in  white  and  shining  raiment,  who,  with  melodious 
noises  and  loud,  made  even  the  heavens  to  echo  with  thoir 
sound.  These  trumpeters  saluted  Christian  and  his  fellow 
with  ten  thousand  welcomes  from  the  world ;  and  this  they 
did  with  shouting  and  sound  of  trumpet. 

This  done,  they  compassed  them  round  on  every  sid^ ;  some 
went  before,  some  behind,  and  some  on  the  right  hand,  some 
on  the  left  (as  it  were  to  guard  them  through  the  upper  re- 
gions), continually  sounding  as  they  went,  with  melodious 
noise,  in  notes  on  high :  so  that  the  very  sight  was  to  them 
that  could  behold  it  as  if  heaven  itself  was  come  down  to 
meet  them.  Thus,  therefore,  they  walked  on  together;  and 
as  they  walked,  ever  and  anon  these  trumpeters,  even  with 
joyful  sound,  would,  by  mixing  their  music  with  looks  and 
gestures,  still  signify  to  Christian  and  his  brother  how  wel- 
come they  were  into  their  company,  and  with  what  gladness 
they  came  to  meet  them.  And  now  were  these  two  men,  as  it 
were,  in  heaven,  before  they  came  at  it,  being  swallowed  up 
with  the  sight  of  angels,  and  with  hearing  of  their  melodious 
notes.  Here  also  they  had  the  city  itself  in  view,  and  they 
thought  they  heard  all  the  bells  therein  to  ring,  to  welcome 
them  thereto.  But,  above  all,  the  warm  and  joyful  thoughts 
that  they  had  about  their  own  dwelling  there,  with  such  com- 
pany, and  that  for  ever  and  ever.  Oh,  by  what  tongue  or  pen 
can  their  glorious  joy  be  expressed  ?  And  thus  they  came  up 
to  the  gate. 


160  THE   GATES   OPENED. 

Now  "when  they  were  come  up  to  the  gate,  there  was  writ- 
ten over  it,  in  letters  of  gold,  *' Blessed  ure  they  that  do  His 
commandments,  that  they  may  have  right  to  the  tree  of  life, 
and  may  enter  in  through  the  gates  into  the  city.''  (Rev. 
xxii.  14.) 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  the  Shining  Men  bid  them 
call  at  the  gate ;  the  which  when  they  did,  some  from  above 
looked  over  the  gate,  to  wit,  Enoch,  Moses,  and  Elijah,  etc., 
to  whom  it  was  said,  "These  pilgrims  are  come  from  the  City 
of  Destruction,  for  the  love  that  they  bear  to  the  King  of  this 
place;  "  and  then  the  pilgrims  gave  in  unto  them  each  man 
his  certificate,  which  they  had  received  in  the  beginning; 
those,  therefore,  were  carried  in  to  the  King,  who,  when  he 
had  read  them,  said,  "Where  are  the  men?"  To  whom  it 
was  answered,  "They  are  standing  without  the  gate."  The 
King  then  commanded  to  open  the  gate,  "That  the  righteous 
nation,"  said  he,  "which  keepetli  the  truth  may  enter  in." 
(Isa.  xxvi.  2.) 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  these  two  men  went  in  at  the 
gate:  and  lo!  as  they  entered,  they  were  transfigured,  and 
they  had  raiment  put  on  them  that  shone  like  gold.  There 
was  also  that  met  them  with  harps  and  crowns,  and  gave 
them  to  them — the  harps  to  praise  withal,  and  the  crowns  in 
token  of  honour.  Then  I  heard  in  my  dream  that  all  the 
bells  in  the  city  rang  again  for  joy,  and  that  it  was  said  unto 
them,  "Enter  ye  into  the  joy  of  your  Lord."  I  also  heard 
the  men  themselves,  that  they  sang  with  a  loud  voice,  saying, 
"Blessing,  and  honour,  and  glory,  and  power,  be  unto  Him 
that  sitteth  upon  the  throne,  and  unto  the  Lamb,  for  ever  and 
ever."     (Rev.  v.  18.) 

Now,  just  as  the  gates  were  opened  to  let  in  the  men,  I 
looked  in  after  them,  and  behold,  the  city  shone  like  the  sun ; 
the  streets  also  were  paved  with  gold,  and  in  them  walked 
many  men,  with  crowns  on  their  heads,  palms  in  their  hands, 
and  golden  harps  to  sing  praises  withal. 


•ir   WAS  A  DREAM."— Page   161. 


THE  AWFUL  END  OF  IGNORANCE.  161 

There  were  also  of  them  that  had  wings,  and  they  answered 
one  another  without  intermission,  saying,  ^^Ploly,  holy,  holy 
is  the  Lord."  And  after  that,  they  shut  up  the  gates;  which 
when  I  had  seen,  I  wished  myself  among  them. 

Now  while  I  was  gazing  upon  all  these  things,  I  turned  my 
head  to  look  back,  and  saw  Ignorance  come  up  to  the  "iver 
side;  but  he  soon  got  over,  and  that  without  half  that  diffi- 
culty which  the  other  two  men  met  with.  For  it  happened 
that  there  was  then  in  that  place  one  Vain-hope,  a  ferryman, 
that  with  his  boat  helped  him  over;  so  he,  as  the  others  I  saw, 
did  ascend  the  hill,  to  come  up  to  the  gate,  only  he  came 
alone ;  neither  did  any  man  meet  him  with  the  least  encour- 
agement. When  he  was  come  up  to  the  gate,  he  looked  up 
to  the  writing  that  was  above,  and  then  began  to  knock,  sup- 
posing that  entrance  should  have  been  quickly  administered 
to  him ;  but  he  was  asked  by  the  men  that  looked  over  the 
top  of  the  gate,  "Whence  came  you  ?  and  what  would  you 
have?"  He  answered,  ''I  have  ate  and  dniuk  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  King,  and  he  has  taught  in  our  streets."  Then 
they  asked  him  for  his  certificate,  that  they  might  go  in  and 
show  it  to  the  King;  so  he  fumbled  iu  his  bosom  for  one,  and 
found  none.  Then  saia  they,  "Have  you  none?"  But  the 
man  answered  never  a  word.  So  they  told  the  King,  but  he 
would  not  come  down  to  see  him,  but  commanded  the  two 
Shming  Ones  that  conducted  Christian  and  Hopeful  to  tliP 
city  to  go  out  and  take  Ignorance,  and  bind  him  hand  and 
foot,  and  have  him  away.  Then  they  took  him  up,  and  car- 
ried him  through  the  air,  to  the  door  that  I  saw  in  the  sid(^ 
of  the  hill,  and  put  him  in  there.  Then  I  saw  that  there  was 
a  way  to  hell,  even  from  the  gates  of  heaven,  as  well  as  from 
the  City  of  Destruction ! 

So  I  awoke,  and  behold,  it  was  a  dream. 


P.  P.— 6. 


163  CONCLUSION. 


THE  CONCLUSION. 


Now,  reader,  I  have  told  my  dream  to  thee; 
See  if  thou  canst  interpret  it  to  me, 
Or  to  thyself,  or  neighbour;  but  take  heed 
Of  misinterpreting;  for  that,  instead 
Of  doing  good,  will  but  thyself  abuse : 
By  misinterpreting,  evil  ensues. 

Take  heed  also  that  thou  be  not  extreme 
In  playing  with  the  outside  of  my  dream : 
Nor  let  my  figure  or  similitude 
Put  thee  into  a  laughter  or  a  feud. 
Leave  this  for  boys  and  fools ;  but  as  for  thee, 
Do  thou  the  substance  of  my  matter  see. 

Put  by  the  curtains,  look  within  my  veil, 
Turn  up  my  metaphors,  and  do  not  fail, 
There,  if  thou  scekest  them,  such  things  to  find 
As  will  be  helpful  to  an  honest  mind. 

What  of  my  dross  thou  findest  there,  be  bold 
To  throw  away,  but  yet  preserve  the  gold; 
What  if  my  gold  be  wrapped  up  in  ore  ? 
None  throws  away  the  apple  for  the  core. 
But  if  thou  shalt  cast  all  away  as  vain, 
I  know  not  but 't  will  make  me  dream  again. 


END  OF  THE  FIRST  PART. 


THE  AUTHOR'S   WAY 

OF   SENDING   FORTH   HIS 

SECOND  PART   OF   THE  PILGRIM 


Go  now,  my  little  book,  to  every  place 
Where  my  first  pilgrim  has  but  shown  his  face ; 
Call  at  their  door.     If  any  say,  * '  Who's  there  ?  " 
Then  answer  thou,  '*  Christiana  is  here." 
If  they  bid  thee  come  in,  then  enter  thou 
With  all  thy  boys ;  and  then,  as  thou  know'st  how, 
Tell  who  they  are,  also  from  whence  they  came; 
Perhaps  they  know  them,  by  their  looks,  or  name. 
But  if  they  should  not,  ask  them  yet  again 
If  formerly  they  did  not  entertain 
One  Christian,  a  pilgrim.    If  they  say 
They  did,  and  were  delighted  in  his  way, 
Then  let  them  know  that  those  related  were 
Unto  him ;  yea,  his  wife  and  children  are. 

Tell  them  that  they  have  left  trieir  house  and  home, 
Are  turned  pilgrims,  seek  a  world  to  come ; 
That  they  have  met  with  hardships  in  the  way; 
That  they  do  meet  with  troubles  night  and  day ; 
That  they  have  trod  on  serpents,  fought  with  devils. 
Have  also  overcome  as  many  evils. 
Yea,  tell  them  also  of  the  next,  who  have. 
Of  love  to  pilgrimage,  been  stout  and  brave 
(163) 


164  THE  AUTHOR'S   WAY  OF 

Defenders  of  that  way,  and  how  they  still 
Refuse  this  world,  to  do  their  Father's  will. 

Go,  tell  them  also  of  those  dainty  things 
That  pilgrimage  unto  the  pilgrim  brings. 
Let  them  acquainted  be,  too,  how  they  are 
Beloved  of  their  King,  under  his  care ; 
What  goodly  mansions  for  them  he  provides : 
Though  they  meet  with  rough  winds  and  swelling  tides, 
How  brave  a  calm  they  will  enjoy  at  last, 
Who  to  their  Lord,   and  by  his  ways,  hold  fast. 

Perhaps  with  heart  and  hand  they  will  embrace 
Thee,  as  they  did  my  firstling,  and  will  grace 
Thee  and  thy  fellows  with  such  cheer  and  fare 
As  show  well  they  of  pilgrims  lovers  are, 

OBJECTION  I. 

But  how  if  they  will  not  believe  of  me 
That  I  am  truly  thine ;  'cause  some  there  be 
That  counterfeit  the  pilgrim  and  his  name, 
Seek  by  disguise  to  seem  the  very  same, 
And  by  that  means  have  wrought  themselves  into 
The  hands  and  houses  of  I  know  not  who  ?. 


'Tis  true,  some  have  of  late,  to  counterfeit 
My  pilgrim,  to  their  own  my  title  set : 
Yea,  others  half  my  name  and  title  too 
Have  stitched  to  their  book,  to  make  them  do; 
But  yet  they  by  their  features  do  declare 
Themselves  not  mine  to  be,  whose'er  they  are. 

If  such  thou  meet'st  with,  then  thine  only  way 
Before  them  all  is  to  say  out  thy  say. 
In  thin(^own  native  language,  which  no  man 
Now  Qseth,  nor  with  ease  dissemble  can. 
If  after  all,  they  still  of  you  shall  doubt. 


SENDING  FORTH  HIS  SECOND  PART.  165 

Thinking  that  you,  like  gipsies,  go  aoout 
In  naughty  wise,  the  country  to  defile, 
Or  that  you  seek  good  people  to  beguile 
With  things  unwarrantable,  send  for  me, 
And  I  will  testify  you  pilgrims  be. 
Yea,  I  will  testify  that  only  you 
My  pilgrims  are ;  and  that  alone  will  do. 

OBJECTION  II. 

But  yet,  perhaps,  I  may  inquire  for  him 
Of  those  that  wish  him  damned  life  and  limb. 
What  shall  I  do,  when  I  at  such  a  door 
For  pilgrims  ask,  and  they  shall  rage  the  more  ? 


Fright  not  thyself,  my  book,  for  such  bugbears 
Are  nothing  else  but  ground  for  groundless  fears. 
My  pilgrim's  book  has  travell'd  sea  and  land, 
Yet  could  I  never  come  to  understand 
That  it  was  slighted,  or  turn'd  out  of  door 
By  any  kingdom,  were  they  rich  or  poor. 

In  France  and  Flanders,  where  men  kill  each  other. 
My  pilgrim  is  esteemed  a  friend  and  biother. 

In  Holland  too,  'tis  said,  as  I  am  told, 
My  pilgrim  is  with  some  worth  more  than  gold. 

Highlanders  and  wild  Irish  can  agree 
My  pilgrim  should  familiar  with  them  be. 

'Tis  in  New  England  under  such  advance, 
Receives  there  so  much  loving  countenance 
As  to  be  trimm'd,  new  clothed,  and  deck'd  with  gems, 
That  it  may  show  its  features  and  its  limbs ; 
Yet  more,  so  comely  doth  my  pilgrim  walk 
That  of  him  thousands  daily  sing  and  talk. 

If  you  draw  nearer  home,  it  will  appear, 
My  pilgrim  knows  no  ground  of  shame  or  fear; 


166  THE   AUTHOR'S  WAY  OF 

City  and  country  will  him  entertain 

With  "Welcom?,  Pilgrim;"  yea,  they  can't  i //f rain 

From  smiling,  if  my  pilgrim  be  but  by, 

Or  shows  his  head  in  any  company. 

Brave  gallants  do  my  pilgrim  hug  and  love^ 
Esteem  it  much,  yea,  value  it  above 
Things  of  a  greater  bulk:  yea,  with  delights, 
Say,    ^*My  lark's  leg  is  better  than  a  kite." 

Young  ladies,  and  young  gentlewomen  too, 
Do  no  small  kindness  to  my  pilgrim  show. 
Their  cabinets,  their  bosoms,  and  their  hearts 
My  pilgrim  has,  'cause  he  to  them  imparts 
His  pretty  riddles  in  such  wholesome  strains,- 
As  yields  them  profit  double  to  their  pains 
Of  reading;  yea,  I  tliiuk  I  may  be  bold 
To  say  some  prize  him  far  above  their  gold. 

The  very  children  that  do  walk  the  street, 
K  they  do  but  my  holy  pilgrim  meet, 
Salute  him  will,  will  wish  him  well,  and  say, 
He  is  the  only  stripling  of  the  day. 

They  that  have  never  seen  him,  yet  admire 
What  they  have  heard  of  him,  and  much  desire 
To  have  his  company,  and  hear  him  tell 
Those  pilgrim  stories  which  he  knows  so  well. 

Yea,  some  who  did  not  love  him  at  the  tirst, 
But  call'd  him  fool  aud  noddy,  say  they  must, 
Now  they  have  seen  and  heard  him,  him  commend, 
And  to  those  whom  they  love  they  do  him  send. 

Wherefore,  my  Second  Part,  thou  need'st  not  be 
Afraid  to  show  thy  head ;  none  can  hurt  thee, 
That  wish  but  well  to  him  that  went  before, 
'Cause  thou  com'st  after  with  a  second  store 
Of  things  as  good,  as  rich,  as  profitable. 
For  young,  for  old,  for  stagg'ring,  and  for  stable. 


SENDING   FORTH   HIS   SECOND   PART.  167 


OBJECTION  III. 

But  some  there  be  that  say,    "He  laughs  too  loud ; " 
And  some  do  say,  '*His  head  is  in  a  cloud. '^ 
Some  say,    *'  His  words  and  stories  are  so  dark, 
They  know  not  how,  by  them,  to  lind  his  mark.'' 

ANSWER. 

One  may,  I  think,  say,  Both  his  laughs  and  cries 
May  well  be  guess'd  at  by  his  watery  eyes. 
Some  things  are  of  that  nature  as  to  make 
One's  fancy  chuckle,  while  his  heart  doth  ache. 
When  Jacob  saw  his  Rachel  with  the  sheep. 
He  did  at  the  same  time  both  kiss  and  weep. 

Whereas  some  say,  *'  A  cloud  is  in  his  head," 
That  doth  but  show  how  wisdom's  covered 
With  its  own  mantles,  and  to  stir  the  mind 
To  a  search  after  what  it  fain  would  find. 
Things  that  seem  to  be  hid  in  words  obscure 
Do  but  the  godly  mind  the  more  allure 
To  study  what  those  sayings  should  contain, 
That  speak  to  us  in  such  a  cloudy  strain. 

I  also  know  a  dark  similitude 
Will  on  the  fancy  more  itself  intrude. 
And  will  stick  faster  in  the  heart  and  head, 
Than  things  from  similes  not  borrowed. 

Wherefore,  my  book,  let  no  discouragement 
Hinder  thy  travels.     Behold,  tliou  art  sent 
To  friends,  not  foes ;  to  friends  that  will  give  place 
To  thee,  thy  pilgrims,  and  thy  words  embrace. 

Besides,  what  my  first  pilgrim  left  conceal'd. 
Thou,  my  brave  second  pilgrim,  hast  reveal'd ; 
What  Christian  left  lock'd  up,  and  went  his  way. 
Sweet  Christiana  opens  with  her  key. 


168  THE   AUTHOR'S   WAY   OF 


OBJECTION   IV. 

But  some  love  not  the  method  of  your  first ; 
Romance  they  count  it,  throw  't  away  as  dust. 
If  I  should  meet  with  such,  what  should  I  say  ? 
Must  I  slight  them  as  they  slight  me,  or  nay  ? 

ANSWER. 

My  Christiana,  if  with  such  thou  meet, 
By  all  means,  in  all  loving  wise,  them  greet ; 
Render  them  not  reviling  for  revile ; 
But  if  they  frown,  I  prithee  on  them  smile ; 
Perhaps  'tis  nature,  or  some  ill  report, 
Has  made  them  thus  despise,  or  thus  retort. 

Some  love  no  cheese,  some  love  no  fish,  and  sorbe 
Love  not  their  friends,  nor  their  own  house  or  home; 
Some  start  at  pig,  slight  chicken,  love  not  fowl 
More  than  they  love  a  cuckoo,  or  an  owl: 
Leave  such,  my  Christiana,  to  their  choice. 
And  seek  those  who  to  find  thee  will  rejoice; 
By  no  means  strive,  but  in  humble  wise 
Present  thee  to  them  in  thy  pilgrim's  guise. 

Go,  then,  my  little  book,  and  show  to  all 
That  entertain,  and  bid  thee  welcome  shall, 
What  thou  slialt  keep  close ;  shut  up  from  the  rest, 
And  wish  what  thou  slialt  show  them  may  be  bless'd 
To  them  for  good,  may  make  them  choose  to  be 
Pilgrims  better  by  far  than  thee  or  me. 

Go,  then,  I  say,  tell  all  men  who  thou  art ; 
Say,  ' '  I  am  Christiana,  and  my  part 
Is  now,  with  my  four  sons,  to  tell  you  what 
It  is  for  men  to  take  a  pilgrim's  lot." 

Go,  also  tell  them  who  and  what  they  be, 
That  now  do  go  on  pilgrimage  with  thee ; 


SENDING   FORTH   HIS   SECOND   PART.  169 

Say,  ''Here's  my  neighbour,  Mercy,  she  is  one 
That  has  long  time  with  me  a  pilgrim  gone. 
Come,  see  her  in  her  virgin  face,  and  learn 
'Twixt  idle  ones  and  pilgrims  to  discern. 
Yea,  let  young  damsels  learn  of  her  to  prize 
The  world  which  is  to  come,  in  any  wise. 
When  little  tripping  maidens  follow  God, 
And  leave  old  doting  sinners  to  his  rod, 
'Tis  like  those  days  wherein  the  young  ones  cried 
Hosanna!  to  whom  old  ones  did  deride." 

Next,  tell  them  of  old  Honest,  wiiom  you  found 
With  his  white  hairs,  treading  the  pilgrim's  ground. 
Yea,  tell  them  how  plain-hearted  this  man  was, 
.How  after  his  good  Lord  he  bare  his  cross ; 
Perhaps  with  some  gray  head  this  may  prevail 
Witli  Christ  to  fall  in  love,  and  sin  bewail. 

Tell  them  also  how  Master  Fearing  went 
On  pilgrimage,  and  how  the  time  he  spent 
In  solitariness,  with  fears  and  cries; 
And  how,  at  last,  he  won  the  joyful  prize. 
He  was  a  good  man,  though  much  down  in  spirit, 
He  is  a  good  man,  and  doth  life  inherit. 

Tell  them  of  Master  Feeble-mind  also. 
Who  not  before,  but  still  behind,  would  go. 
Show  them  also  how  he  had  like  been  slain. 
And  how  one  Grcatheart  did  his  life  regain. 
This  man  was  true  of  heart,  though  weak  in  grace ; 
One  might  true  godliness  read  in  his  face. 

Then  tell  them  of  Master  Ready-to-halt, 
A  man  with  crutches,  but  much  without  fault; 
Tell  them  how  Master  Feeble-mind  and  lie 
Did  love,  and  in  opinions  much  agree. 
And  let  all  know,  though  weakness  was  their  chance, 
Yet  sometimes  one  could  sing,  the  other  dance. 

Forget  not  Master  Valiant-for-the-truth, 


170  THE  AUTHOR'S  WAY,   ETC. 

That  man  of  courage,  though  a  very  youth. 
Tell  every  one  his  spirit  was  so  stout 
No  man  could  ever  make  him  face  about; 
And  how  Greatheart  and  he  could  not  forbear, 
But  put  down  Doubting  Castle,  slay  Despair. 

Overlook  not  Master  Despondency, 
Nor  Much-afraid,  his  daughter,  though  they  lie 
Under  such  mantles  as  may  make  them  look 
(With  some)  as  if  their  God  had  them  forsook. 
They  softly  went,  but  sure,  and  at  the  end 
Found  that  the  Lord  of  pilgrims  was  their  friend. 
When  thou  hast  told  the  world  of  all  these  things, 
Then  turn  about,  my  book,  and  touch  these  strings, 
Which,  if  but  touched,  will  such  music  make, 
They'll  make  a  cripple  dance,  a  giant  quake. 

These  riddles  that  lie  couch'd  within  thy  breast 
Freely  propound,  expound;  and  for  the  rest 
Of  thy  mysterious  lines,  let  them  remain 
For  those  whose  nimble  fancies  shall  them  gain. 
Now  may  this  little  book  a  blessing  be 
To  those  who  love  this  little  book  and  me ; 
And  may  its  buyer  have  no  cause  to  say 
His  money  is  but  lost  or  thrown  away ; 
Yea,  may  this  second  pilgrim  yield  that  fruit 
As  may  with  each  good  pilgrim's  fancy  suit! 
And  may  it  persuade  some  that  go  astray. 
To  turn  their  feet  and  heart  to  the  right  way, 

Is  the  hearty  prayer  of  the  Author, 

John  Bunyan. 


SECOND  PART  OF 

THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


^  Courteous  Companions — Some  time  since,  to  tell  you  my 
dream  that  I  had  of  Christian  the  Pilgrim,  and  of  his  danger- 
ous journey  towards  the  Celestial  Country,  was  pleasant  to  me, 
and  profitable  to  you.  I  told  you  tlien  also  what  I  saw  con- 
cerning his  wife  and  children,  and  how  unwilling  they  were  to 
go  with  him  on  pilgrimage,  insomuch  that  he  was  forced  to 
go  on  his  progress  without  them ;  for  he  durst  not  run  the 
danger  of  that  destruction  which  he  feared  would  come  by 
staying  with  them  in  the  City  of  Destruction.  Wherefore,  as 
I  then  showed  you,  he  left  them,  and  departed. 

Now  it  hath  so  happened,  through  the  multiplicity  of  busi- 
ness, that  I  have  been  much  hindered  and  kept  back  from  my 
wonted  travels  into  those  parts  whence  he  went,  and  so  could 
not,  till  now,  obtain  an  opportunity  to  make  further  inquiry 
after  whom  he  left  behind,  that  I  might  give  you  an  account 
of  them.  But  having  had  some  concerns  that  way  of  late,  I 
went  down  again  thitherward.  Now,  having  taken  up  my 
lodgings  in  a  wood,  about  a  mile  off  the  place,  as  I  slept  I 
dreamed  again.* 

And  as  I  was  in  my  dream,  behold,  an  aged  gentleman 
came  by  where  I  lay ;  and  because  he  was  to  go  some  part  of 

*  Bunyan  wrote  the  Second  Part  in  his  own  home,  about  a  mile  from  the  jail 
in  which  he  spent  so  many  years  of  his  valuable  life. 

(171) 


172  MR.    SAGACITY. 

the  way  that  I  was  travelling,  metliought  1  got  up  and  wen 
with  him.  So,  as  we  walked,  and  as  travellers  usually  do,  I 
was  as  if  we  fell  into  discourse,  and  our  talk  happened  to  be 
about  Christian  and  his  travels ;  for  thus  I  began  with  the  old 
man: 

""  Sir, ''said  I,  "what  town  is  that  there  below,  thatlieth  on 
the  left  hand  of  our  way  ?  " 

Then  said  Mr.  Sagacity  (for  that  was  his  name),  "  It  is  the 
City  of  Destruction,  a  populous  place,  but  possessed  with  a 
very  ill-conditioned  and  idle  sort  of  people." 

"  I  thought  that  was  that  city,"  quoth  I;  "I  went  once  my- 
self  through  that  town,  and  therefore  know  that  this  report 
you  give  of  it  is  true." 

Sag.  Too  true ;  I  wish  I  could  speak  truth  in  speaking  bet- 
ter of  them  that  dwell  therein. 

"Well,  sir,"  quoth  I,  "then  I  perceive  you  to  be  a  well- 
meaning  man ;  and  so  one  that  takes  pleasure  to  hear  and  tell 
of  that  which  is  good.  Pray,  did  you  never  hear  what  hap- 
pened to  a  man  some  time  ago  in  this  town,  whose  name  was 
Christian,  that  went  on  pilgrimage  up  towards  the  higher 
regions  ? " 

Sag.  Hear  of  him !  Ay,  and  I  also  heard  of  the  molesta- 
tions, troubles,  wars,  captivities,  cries,  groans,  frights,  and 
fears  that  he  met  with  and  had  in  his  journey;  besides,  I 
must  tell  you,  all  our  country  rings  of  him.  There  are  but 
few  houses  that  have  heard  of  him  and  his  doings  but  have 
sought  after  and  got  the  records  of  his  pilgrimage;  yea,  I 
think  I  may  say  that  his  hazardous  journey  has  got  a  many 
well-wishers  to  his  ways;  for  though,  when  he  was  here,  he 
was  fool  in  every  man's  mouth,  yet,  now  he  is  gone,  he  is 
higlily  commended  of  all.  For,  it  is  said,  he  lives  bravely 
where  he  is ;  yea,  many  of  them  that  are  resolved  never  to  run 
his  hazards,  yet  have  their  mouths  water  at  his  gains. 

"They  may,"  quoth  I,  "well  think,  if  they  think  any- 
thing that  is  true,  tl^t  he  liveth  well  where  he  is ;  for  he 


CHRISTIAN'S   GAINS.  173 

now  lives  at  and  in  the  Fountain  of  Life,  and  has  what  he  has 
without  labour  and  sorrow,  for  there  is  no  grief  mixed  there- 
with.    But  pray,  what  talk  have  the  people  about  him  ? " 

Sag.  Talk !  the  people  talk  strangely  about  him ;  some  say 
that  he  now  walks  in  white  (Rev.  iii.  4;  vi.  11);  that  he  has 
a  chain  of  gold  about  his  neck;  that  he  has  a  crown  of  gold, 
beset  with  pearls,  upon  his  head.  Others  say  that  the  Shin- 
ing Ones,  that  sometimes  showed  themselves  to  him  in  his 
journey,  are  become  his  companions,  and  that  he  is  as  famil- 
iar with  them  in  the  place  where  he  is,  as  here  one  neighbour 
is  with  another.  Besides,  it  is  confidently  affirmed  concern- 
ing him,  that  the  King  of  the  place  where  he  is  has  bestowed 
upon  him  already  a  very  ricli  and  pleasant  dwelling  at  court 
(Zech.  iii.  7),  and  that  he  every  day  eateth  (Luke  xiv.  15),  and 
drinketh,  and  walketh,  and  talketh  with  him ;  and  receiveth 
of  the  smiles  and  favours  of  him  that  is  judge  of  all  there. 
Moreover,  it  is  expected  of  some  that  his  Prince,  the  Lord  of 
that  country,  will  shortly  come  into  these  parts,  and  will 
know  the  reason,  if  they  can  give  any,  why  his  neighbours 
set  so  little  by  him,  and  had  him  so  much  in  derision,  when 
they  perceived  that  he  would  be  a  pilgrim.  (Jude  14,  15.) 
For  they  say  that  now  he  is  so  in  the  affections  of  his  Prince, 
and  that  his  Sovereign  is  so  much  concerned  with  the  indigni- 
ties that  were  cast  upon  Christian  when  he  became  a  pilgrim, 
that  he  will  look  upon  all  as  if  done  unto  himself ;  and  no 
marvel,  for  it  was  for  the  love  that  he  had  to  his  Prince  that 
he  ventured  as  he  did.     (Luke  x.  16.) 

*'I  dare  say,"  qnoth  I;  "I  am  glad  on  it;  I  am  glad  for 
the  poor  man's  sake,  for  that  he  now  has  rest  from  his  labour 
(Rev.  xiv.  13),  and  for  that  he  now  reapeth  the  benefit  of  his 
tears  with  joy  (Psa.  cxxvi.  5,  6) ;  and  for  that  he  has  got  be- 
yond the  gunshot  of  his  enemies,  and  is  out  of  the  reach  of 
them  that  hate  him.  I  also  am  glad  for  that  a  rumour  of 
these  things  is  noised  abroad  in  this  country;  who  can  tell 
but  that  it  may  work  some  good  effect  on  some  that  are  left 


174         GOOD  TIDINGS  OF  CHRISTIAN'S  FAMILY. 

behind  ?  But  pray,  sir,  while  it  is  fresh  in  my  mind,  do  you 
hear  anything  of  his  wife  and  children  ?  Poor  hearts!  I  won- 
der in  my  mind  what  they  do." 

Sag.  Wlio  ?  Christiana  and  her  sons  ?  They  are  like  to  do 
as  well  as  did  Christian  himself;  for  though  they  all  played  the 
fool  at  the  first,  and  would  by  no  means  be  persuaded  by 
either  the  tears  or  entreaties  of  Christian,  yet  second  thoughts 
have  wrought  wonderfully  with  them ;  so  they  have  packed 
up,  and  are  also  gone  after  him. 

'' Better  and  better,"  quoth  I.  ''But  what!  wife,  and  chil- 
dren, and  all  ?  " 

Sag,  It  is  true ;  I  can  give  you  an  account  of  the  matter, 
for  I  was  upon  the  spot  at  the  instant,  and  was  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  the  whole  affair. 

"Then,"  said  I,  "a  man,  it  seems,  may  report  it  for  a 
truth  ?  " 

Sag.  You  need  not  fear  to  affirm  it;  I  mean  that  they  are 
all  gone  on  pilgrimage,  both  the  good  woman  and  her  four 
boys.  And  being  (we  are,  as  I  perceive)  going  some  consid- 
erable way  together,  I  will  give  you  an  account  of  the  whole 
of  the  matter. 

This  Christiana  (for  that  was  her  name  from  the  day  that 
she,  with  her  children,  betook  themselves  to  a  pilgrim's  life), 
after  her  husband  was  gone  over  the  river,  and  she  could  hear 
of  him  no  more,  her  thoughts  began  to  work  in  her  mind;* 
first,  for  that  she  had  lost  her  husband,  and  for  that  the  lov- 
ing bond  of  that  relation  was  utterly  broken  betwixt  them. 
"For  you  know,"  said  he  to  me,  "nature  can  do  no  less  but 
entertain  the  living  with  many  a  heavy  cogitation  in  the  re- 
membrance of  the  loss  of  loving  relations."  This,  therefore, 
of  her  husband  did  cost  her  many  a  tear.  But  this  was  not 
all;  for  Christiana  did  also  begin  to  consider  with  liersclf 
whether  her  unbecoming  behaviour  towards  her  husband  was 
not  one  cause  that  she  saw  him  no  more,  and  that  in  such  sort 
*  See  page  157. 


CHRISTIANA'S  DREAM.  175 

he  was  taken  away  from  her.  Ana  upon  this,  came  into  her 
mind,  by  swarms,  all  her  unkind,  unnatural,  and  ungodly 
carriages  to  her  dear  friend ;  which  also  clogged  her  con- 
science, and  did  load  her  with  guilt.  She  w^as,  moreover, 
much  broken  with  calling  to  remembrance  the  restless  groans, 
brinish  tears,  and  self-bemoanings  of  her  husband,  and  how 
she  did  harden  her  heart  against  all  his  entreaties  and  loving 
persuasions  (of  her  and  her  sons)  to  go  with  him ;  yea,  there  was 
not  anything  that  Christian  either  said  to  her  or  did  before 
her,  all  tlie  while  that  his  burden  did  hang  on  his  back,  but 
it  returned  upon  her  like  a  flash  of  lightning,  and  rent  the 
caul  of  her  heart  in  sunder.  Specially  that  bitter  outcry  of 
his,  ''What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved  ? "  did  ring  in  her  ears  most 
dolefully.* 

Then  said  she  to  her  children,  "  Sons,  we  are  all  undone. 
I  have  sinned  away  your  father,  and  he  is  gone ;  he  would 
have  had  us  with  him,  but  I  would  not  go  myself.  I  also  have 
hindered  you  of  life."  With  that  the  boys  fell  all  into  tears, 
and  cried  out  to  go  after  their  father.  ''  Oh !  "  said  Christiana, 
' '  that  it  had  been  but  our  lot  to  go  with  him,  then  had  it  fared 
well  with  us,  beyond  what  it  is  like  to  do  now  ;  for  though  I  for- 
merly foolishly  imagined,  concerning  the  troubles  of  your 
father,  that  they  proceeded  of  a  foolish  fancy  that  he  had,  or 
for  that  he  was  overrun  with  melancholy  humours ;  yet  now  it 
will  not  out  of  my  mind,  but  that  they  sprang  from  another 
cause,  to  wit,  for  that  the  Light  of  light  was  given  him  (John 
viii.  12),  by  the  help  of  which,  as  I  perceived,  he  has  escaped 
the  snares  of  death."  Then  they  all  wept  again  and  cried  out, 
''  Oh,  woe  worth  the  day!  " 

The  next  night  Christiana  had  a  dream:  and  behold,  slio 
saw  as  if  a  broad  parchment  was  opened  before  her,  in  which 
were  recorded  the  sum  of  her  ways,  and  the  times,  as  she 
thought,  looked  very  black  upon  her.  Then  she  cried  out 
aloud  in  her  sleep,  "Lord,  have  mercy  upbn  me   a  sinner!'' 

(Luke  xviii.  13),  and  the  little  children  heard  her. 

*  See  pages  11,  12. 


176  A  WELCOME  VISITOR. 

After  this  she  thought  she  saw  two  very  ill-favoured  ones 
standing  by  her  bedside,  and  saying,  "What  shall  we  do 
with  this  woman  ?  for  she  cries  oat  for  mercy  waking  and 
sleeping;  if  she  be  suffered  to  go  on  as  she  begins,  we  shall 
lose  her  as  we  have  lost  her  husband.  Wherefore,  we  must, 
by  one  way  or  other,  seek  to  take  her  off  from  the  thoughts 
of  what  sliall  be  hereafter,  else  all  the  world  cannot  help  it 
but  she  will  become  a  pilgrim." 

Now  she  awoke  in  a  great  sweaty  also  a  trembling  was  upon 
her;  but  after  a  while  she  fell  to  sleeping  again.  And  then 
she  thought  she  saw  Christian  her  husband  in  a  place  of  bliss, 
among  many  immortals,  with  a  harp  in  his  hand,  standing  and 
playing  upon  it  before  One  that  sat  on  a  throne,  with  a  rain- 
bow about  his  head.  She  saw  also  as  if  he  bowed  his  head, 
with  his  face  to  the  paved  work  that  was  under  the  Prince's 
feet,  saying,  "  I  heartily  thank  my  Lord  and  King  for  bring- 
ing of  me  into  this  place."  Then  shouted  a  company  of  them 
that  stood  round  about,  and  harped  with  their  harps;  but  no 
man  living  could  tell  what  they  said,  but  Christian  an-d  his 
companions. 

Next  morning,  when  she  was  up,  had  prayed  to  God,  and 
talked  with  her  children  a  while,  one  knocked  hard  at  the 
door,  to  whom  she  spake  out,  saying,  "  If  thou  comest  in 
God's  name,  come  in."  So  he  said,  "Amen,"  and  opened  the 
door,  and  saluted  her  with  "Peace  be  to  this  house."  The 
which  when  he  had  done,  he  said,  "  Christiana,  knowest  thou 
wherefore  I  am  come  ?  "  Then  she  blushed  and  trembled, 
also  her  heart  began  to  wax  warm  with  desires  to  know 
whence  he  came,  and  what  was  his  errand  to  her.  So  he 
said  unto  her,  "My  name  is  Secret;  I  dwell  with  those  that 
are  high.  It  is  talked  of,  where  I  dwell,  as  if  thou  hadst  a 
desire  to  go  thither;  also  there  is  a  report  that  thou  art  aware 
of  the  evil  thou  hast  formerly  done  to  thy  husband,  in  hard- 
ening of  thy  lieart  irgainst  his  way,  and  in  keeping  of  these  thy 
babes  in  their  ignorance.     Christiana,  the  Merciful  One  has  sent 


SLOUGH  OF   DESPOND.— Page  184. 


GOOD  TIDINGS   FOR  CHRISTIA.NA.  177 

me  to  tell  thee  that  he  is  a  God  ready  to  forgive,  and  that  he 
taketh  delight  to  multiply  to  pardon  offenses.  He  also  would 
have  thee  know  that  he  inviteth  thee  to  come  into  his  presence, 
to  Instable,  and  that  he  will  feed  thee  with  the  fat  of  his  house, 
and  with  the  hereitage  of  Jacob  thy  father. 

"There  is  Christian  thy  husband,  with  legions  more,  his 
companions,  ever  beholding  that  face  that  doth  minister  life 
to  beholders;  and  they  will  all  be  glad  when  they  shall  hear 
the  sound  of  thy  feet  step  over  thy  Father's  threshold." 

Christiana  at  this  was  greatly  abashed  in  herself,  and  bow- 
ing her  head  to  the  ground,  this  visitor  proceeded,  and  said, 
*' Christiana,  here  is  also  a  letter  for  thee,  which  I  have 
brought  from  thy  husband's  King."  So  she  took  it,  and 
opened  it,  but  it  smelt  after  the  manner  of  the  best  perfume 
(Solomon's  Song  i.  3);  also  it  was  written  in  letters  of  gold. 
The  contents  of  the  letter  was.  That  the  King  would  have  her 
do  as  did  Christian  her  husband ;  for  that  was  the  way  to 
come  to  his  city,  and  to  dwell  in  his  presence  with  joy  for 
ever.  At  this  the  good  woman  was  quite  overcome ;  so  she 
cried  out  to  her  visitor,  "  Sir,  will  you  carry  me  and  my  chil- 
dren with  you,  that  we  also  may  go  and  worship  this  King  ? " 

Then  said  the  visitor,  "Christiana,  the  bitter  is  before  the 
sweet.  Thou  must  through  troubles,  as  did  he  that  went  be- 
fore thee,  enter  this  Celestial  City.  Wherefore  I  advise  thee 
to  do  as  did  Christian  thy  husband.  Go  to  the  wicket-gate 
yonder,  over  the  plain,  for  that  stands  in  the  head  of  the  way 
up  which  thou  must  go,  and  I  wish  thee  all  good  speed.  Also 
I  advise  that  thou  put  this  letter  in  thy  bosom;  that  thou  read 
therein  to  thyself,  and  to  thy  children,  until  you  have  got  it 
by  rote  of  heart,  *  for  it  is  one  of  the  songs  that  thou  must 
sing  while  thou  art  in  this  house  of  thy  pilgrimage.  (Psa. 
cxix.  54.)     Also  this  thou  must  deliver  in  at  the  further  gate." 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  this  old  gentleman,  as  he  told 
me  this  story,  did  himself  seem  to  be  greatly  affected  there- 
*  That  is,  until  you  fully  understand  Us  meaning. 


178  CHRISTIANA  AND  HER  NEIGHBOURS. 

with.  He  moreover  proceeded  and  said,  So  Christiana  called 
her  sons  together,  and  began  thus  to  address  herself  unto 
them:  '^My  sons,  I  have,  as  you  may  perceive,  been  of  late 
under  much  exercise  in  my  soul,  about  the  death  of  your 
father;  not  for  that  I  doubt  at  all  of  his  happiness,  for  I  am 
satisfied  now  that  he  is  well.  I  have  also  been  much  affected 
with  the  thoughts  of  mine  own  state  and  yours,  which  I  verily 
believe  is  by  nature  miserable.  My  carriage,  also,  to  your 
father  in  his  distress,  is  a  great  load  to  my  conscience ;  for  I 
hardened  both  my  own  heart  and  yours  against  him,  and  re- 
fused to  go  with  him  on  pilgrimage. 

"The  thoughts  of  these  things  would  now  kill  me  outright, 
but  that  for  a  dream  which  I  had  last  night,  and  but  for  the  en- 
couragement that  this  stranger  has  given  me  this  moruing. 
Come,  my  children,  let  us  pack  up  and  be  gone  to  the  gate 
that  leads  to  the  Celestial  Country,  that  we  may  see  your 
father,  and  be  with  him  and  his  companions  in  peace,  accord- 
ing to  the  laws  of  that  land." 

Then  did  her  children  burst  out  into  tears  for  joy,  that  the 
heart  of  their  mother  was  so  inclined.  So  their  visitor  bade 
them  farewell ;  and  they  began  to  prepare  to  set  out  for  their 
journey. 

But  while  they  were  thus  about  to  be  gone,  two  of  the 
women,  that  were  Christiana's  neighbours,  came  up  to  her 
house,  and  knocked  at  her  door.  To  whom  she  said  as  be- 
fore, ''If  you  come  in  God's  name,  come  in."  At  this  the 
women  were  stunned ;  for  this  kind  of  language  they  used 
not  to  hear,  or  to  perceive  to  drop  from  the  lips  of  Christiana. 
Yet  they  came  in:  but  behold,  they  found  the  good  woman 
a-preparing  to  be  gone  from  her  house. 

So  they  began  and  said,  ' '  Neighbour,  pray  what  is  your 
meaning  by  this  ?  " 

Christiana  answ^ered  and  said  to  the  eldest  of  them,  whose 
name  was  Mrs.  Timorous,  ''I  am  preparing  for  a  journey." 
(This  Timorous  was  daughter  to  him  that  met  Christian  upon 


CHRISTIANA   AND   HER   NEIGHBOURS.  179 

the  Hill  Difficulty,  and  would  have  had  him  go  back  for  fear 
of  the  lions.)  * 

Timorous.  For  what  journey,  I  pray  you? 

Christiana.  Even  to  go  after  my  good  husband.  And 
with  that  she  fell  a-weeping. 

Tim.  I  hope  not  so,  good  neighbour;  pray,  for  your  poor 
children's  sakes,  do  not  so  unwomanly  cast  away  yourself. 

Chris.  Nay,  my  children  shall  go  with  me;  not  one  of 
them  is  willing  to  stay  behind. 

Tim.  I  wonder,  in  my  very  heart,  whot  or  who  has  brouglit 
you  into  this  mind. 

Chris.  Oh,  neighbour,  knew  you  but  as  much  as  I  do,  I 
doubt  not  but  that  you  would  go  with  me. 

Tim.  Pritliee,  what  new  knowledge  hast  thou  got,  that  so 
worketh  off  thy  mind  from  thy  friends,  and  that  tempteth 
thee  to  go  nobody  knows  where  ? 

Then  Christiana  replied,  ''I  have  been  sorely  afflicted  since 
my  husband's  departure  from  me;  but  especially  since  he  went 
over  the  river.  But  that  which  troubleth  me  most  is  my 
churlish  carriage  to  him  when  he  was  under  his  distress.  Be- 
sides, I  am  now  as  he  was  then ;  nothing  will  serve  me  but 
going  on  pilgrimage.  I  was  a-dreaming  last  night  that  I  saw 
him.  Oh,  that  my  soul  was  with  him !  He  dwelleth  in  the 
presence  of  the  King  of  the  country;  he  sits  and  eats  with 
him  at  his  table ;  he  is  become  a  companion  of  immortals,  and 
has  a  house  now  given  him  to  dwell  in,  to  which  tlie  best  palaces 
on  earth,  if  compared,  seem  to  me  but  as  a  dung-hill.  (2  Cor. 
V.  1-4.)  The  Prince  of  the  place  has  also  sent  for  me,  with 
promise  of  entertainment  if  I  shall  come  to  him ;  his  messen- 
ger was  here  even  now,  and  has  brought  me  a  letter,  whiclj 
invites  me  to  come."  And  with  that  she  plucked  out  her  let^ 
ter,  and  read  it,  and  said  to  them,  "What  now  will  ye  say  to 
this  ? " 

Tim.  Oh,  the  madness  that  has  possessed  thee  and  thy  hus- 
*  See  page  44. 


180  WORLDLY   ADVICE. 

band,  to  run  yourselves  upon  such  dilSiculties !  You  have 
heard,  I  am  sure,  what  your  husband  did  meet  with,  even,  in 
a  manner,  at  the  first  step  that  he  took  on  his  way,  as  our 
neighbour  Obstinate  can  yet  testify,*  for  he  went  along  with 
him;  yea,  and  Pliable,  too,  until  they,  like  wise  men,  were 
afraid  to  go  any  further.  We  also  heard,  over  and  above, 
how  he  met  with  the  lions,  Apollyon,  the  Shadow  of  Death, 
and  many  other  things.  Nor  is  the  danger  that  he  met  with 
at  Vanity  Fair  to  be  forgotten  by  thee ;  for  if  he,  though  a 
man,  was  so  hard  put  to  it,  what  canst  thou,  being  but  a 
poor  woman,  do  ?  Consider,  also,  that  these  four  sweet  babes 
are  thy  children,  thy  flesh  and  thy  bones.  Wiierefore,  tliough 
thou  shouldst  be  so  rash  as  to  cast  away  thyself,  yet  for  the 
sake  of  the  fruit  of  thy  body,  keep  thou  at  home. 

But  Christiana  said  unto  her,  "Tempt  me  not,  my  neigh- 
bour. I  have  noAV  a  price  put  into  my  hand  to  get  gain,  and 
I  should  be  a  fool  of  the  greatest  size  if  I  should  have  no 
heart  to  strike  in  with  the  opportunity.  And  for  that  you 
tell  me  of  all  these  troubles  that  I  am  like  to  meet  with  in  the 
way,  they  are  so  far  off  from  being  to  me  a  discouragement, 
that  they  show  I  am  in  the  right.  '  The  bitter  must  come 
before  the  sweet,'  and  that  also  will  make  the  sweet  the  sweet- 
er. Wherefore,  since  you  came  not  to  my  house  in  God's 
name,  as  I  said,  I  pray  you  be  gone,  and  not  disquiet  me 
further."     . 

Then  Timorous  also  reviled  her,  and  said  to  her  fellow, 
"Come,  neighbour  Mercy,  let  us  leave  her  in  her  own  hands, 
since  she  scorns  our  counsel  and  company."  But  Mercy  was 
at  a  stand,  and  could  not  so  readily  comply  with  her  neigh- 
bour, and  that  for  a  two  fold  reason.  First,  her  bowels 
yearned  over  Christiana.  So  she  said  within  herself,  "  If  my 
neighbour  will  needs  be  gone,  I  will  go  a  little  way  with  her 
and  help  her."  Secondly,  her  bowels  yearned  over  her  own 
soul;  for  what  Christiana  had  said  had  taken  some  hold  upon 
*  See  pages  13-19. 


MERCY'S   RESOLUTIO^\  181 

her  mind.  Wherefore  she  said  within  herself  again,  ''I  will 
yet  have  more  talk  with  this  Christiana,  and  if  I  find  truth 
and  life  in  what  she  shall  say,  myself  with  my  heart  shall  also 
go  with  her."  Wherefore  Mercy  began  thus  to  reply  to  her 
neighbour  Timorous : 

''Neighbour,  I  did,  indeed,  come  with  you  to  see  Christi- 
ana this  morning;  and  since  she  is,  as  you  see,  a-taking  of  her 
last  farewell  of  her  country,  I  think  to  walk  this  sunshine 
morning  a  little  way  with  her,  to  help  her  on  the  way."  But 
she  told  her  not  of  the  second  reason,  but  kept  that  to  her- 
self. 

Tim.  Well,  I  see  you  have  a  mind  to  go  a-fooling  too ;  but 
take  heed  in  time,  and  be  wise.  While  we  are  out  of  dan- 
ger, we  are  out;  but  when  we  are  in,  we  are  in. 

So  Mrs.  Timorous  returned  to  her  house,  and  Christiana  be- 
took herself  to  her  journey.  But  when  Timorous  was  got 
home  to  her  house,  she  sends  for  some  of  }ier  neighbours,  to 
wit,  Mrs.  Bat's-eyes,  Mrs.  Inconsiderate,  Mrs.  Light-mind,  and 
Mrs.  Know-nothing.  So  when  they  were  come  to  her  house, 
she  falls  to  telling  of  the  story  of  Christiana,  and  of  her  in- 
tended journey.     And  thus  she  began  her  tale: 

'*  Neighbours,  having  had  little  to  do  this  morning,  I  went 
to  give  Christiana  a  visit ;  and  when  I  came  at  the  door,  I 
knocked,  as  you  knov/  it  is  our  custom.  And  she  answered, 
'If  you  come  in  God's  name,  come  in.'  So  in  I  went,  think- 
ing all  was  well.  But  when  I  came  in,  T  found  her  perparing 
herself  to  depart  the  town,  she  and  also  her  children.  So  I 
asked  her  what  v/as  her  meaning  by  that ;  and  she  told  me,  in 
short,  that  she  was  now  of  a  mind- to  go  on  pilgrimage,  as  did 
her  husband.  She  told  me  also  a  dream  that  she  had,  and 
how  the  King  of  the  country  where  her  husband  was  had  sent 
her  an  inviting  letter  to  come  thither." 

Tlien  said  Mrs.  Know-nothing,  "And  what!  do  you  think 
she  will  go  ?  " 

Tim.  Ay,  go  she  will,  whatever  come  on't;  and  methink.s  I 


182  MRS.    TIMOROUS   AND   HER  FRIENDS. 

know  it  by  this ;  for  that  which  was  my  great  argument  to 
persuade  her  to  stay  at  home  (to  wit,  the  troubles  she  was  like 
to  meet  with  in  the  way)  is  one  great  argument  with  her  to 
put  her  forward  on  her  journey.  For  she  told  me  in  so  many 
words,  "The  bitter  goes  before  the  sweet."  Yea,  and  for- 
asmuch as  it  so  doth,  it  "makes  the  sweet  the  sweeter." 

Mrs.  Bat's-eyes.  Oh,  this  blind  and  foolish  woman!  will 
she  not  take  warning  by  her  husband's  afflictions  ?  For  my 
part,  I  see,  if  he  was  here  again,  he  would  rest  him  content 
in  a  whole  skin,  and  never  run  so  many  hazards  for  nothing. 

Mrs.  Inconsiderate  also  replied,  saying,  "Away  with  such 
fantastical  fools  from  the  town!  A  good  riddance,  for  my 
part,  I  say,  of  her.  Should  she  stay  where  she  dwells,  and 
retain  this  in  her  mind,  who  could  live  quietly  by  her  ?  for. 
she  will  either  be  dumpish  or  unneighbourly,  or  talk  of  such 
matters  as  no  wise  body  can  abide ;  wherefore,  for  my  part, 
I  shall  never  be  sorry  for  her  departure.  Let  her  go,  and  let 
better  come  in  her  room.  It  was  never  a  good  world  since 
these  whimsical  fools  dwelt  in  it." 

Then  Mrs.  Light-mind  added  as  foUoweth:  "Come,  put 
this  kind  of  talk  away.  I  was  yesterday  at  Madam  Wanton's,* 
where  we  were  as  merry  as  the  maids.  For  who  do  you  think 
should  be  there,  but  I  and  Mrs.  Love-the-Flesh,  and  three  or 
four  more,  with  Mr.  Lechery,  Mrs.  Filth,  and  some  others. 
So  there  we  had  music  and  dancing,  and  what  else  was  meet 
to  fill  up  the  time  with  pleasure.  And,  I  dare  say,  my  lady 
herself  is  an  admirably  wellbred  gentlewoman,  and  Mr.  Lech- 
ery is  as  pretty  a  fellow." 

By  this  time,  Christiana  was  got  on  her  way,  and  Mercy 
went  along  with  her.  So,  as  they  went,  her  children  being 
there  also,  Christiana  began  to  discourse.  "And,  Mercy," 
said  Christiana,  ' '  I  take  this  as  an  unexpected  favour,  that 
thou  shouldst  set  foot  out  of  doors  with  me,  to  accompany 
me  a  little  in  my  way." 

*  See  page  G9. 


CHRISTIANA   ENCOURAGES   MERCY.  183 

Then  said  young  Mercy  (for  she  was  but  young),  "If  I 
thought  it  would  be  to  purpose  to  go  with  you,  I  would  never 
go  near  the  town  any  more." 

"Well,  Mercy,"  said  Christiana,  "  cast  in  thy  lot  with  me. 
I  well  know  what  will  be  the  end  of  our  pilgrimage.  My 
husband  is  where  he  would  not  but  be  for  all  the  gold  in  the 
Spanish  mines.  Nor  shalt  thou  be  rejected,  though  thou  goest 
but  upon  my  invitation.  The  King  who  hath  sent  for  me  and 
my  children  is  one  that  delighteth  in  meroy.  Besides,  if  thou 
wilt,  I  will  hire  thee,  and  thou  shalt  go  along  with  me  as  my 
servant;  yet  we  will  have  all:  things  in  common  betwixt  thee 
and  me;  only,  go  along  with  me." 

Mercy.  But  how  shall  I  be  ascertained  that  I  also  shall  be 
entertained  ?  Had  I  this  hope  but  from  one  that  can  tell,  I 
would  make  no  stick  at  all,  but  would  go,  being  helped  by 
Him  that  can  help,  though  the  way  was  never  so  tedious. 

Chris.  Well,  loving  Mercy,  I  will  tell  thee  what  thou  shalt 
do:  go  with  me  to  the  wicket-gate,  and  there  I  will  further 
enquire  for  thee;  and  if  there  thou  shalt  not  meet  with  en-' 
couragement,  I  will  be  content  that  thou  shalt  return  to  thy 
place.  I  also  will  pay  thee  for  thy  kindness  which  thou 
showest  to  me  and  my  children,  in  thy  accompanying  us  in 
our  way,  as  thou  dost. 

Mercy.  Then  will  I  go  thither,  and  will  take  what  shall 
follow ;  and  the  Lord  grant  that  my  lot  may  there  fall,  even 
as  the  King  of  hea,\ren  shall  have  his  heart  upon  me. 

Christiana  then  was  glad  at  her  heart,  not  only  that  she  had 
a  companion,  but  also  for  that  she  had  prevailed  with  this 
poor  maid  to  fall  in  love  Avith  her  own  salvation.  So  they 
went  on  together,  and  Merc^  began  to  weep.  Then  said 
Christiana,  "Wherefore  weepeth  my  sister  so  ?  " 

**Alasl"  said  she,  "who  can  but  lament,  that  shall  but 
rightly  consider  what  a  state  and  condition  my  poor  relations 
are  in  that  yet  remain  in  our  sinful  town  ?  and  that  which 
makes  my  grief  the  more  heavy  is  because  they  have  no  in- 
structor, nor  any  to  tell  them  what  is  to  come." 


184  CHRISTIANA'S   PRAYERS   ANSWERED. 

Chris.  Bowels  becometh  pilgrims ;  and  thou  dost  for  thy 
friends  as  my  good  Christian  did  for  me  when  he  left  me ;  he 
mourned  for  that  I  would  not  heed  nor  regard  him ;  but  his 
Lord  and  ours  did  gather  up  his  tears,  and  put  them  into  hia 
bottle ;  and  now  both  I  and  thou,  and  these  my  sweet  babes, 
are  reaping  the  fruit  and  benefit  of  them.  I  hope,  Mercy, 
these  tears  of  thine  will  not  be  lost ;  for  the  Truth  hath  said 
that  ''They  that  sow  in  tears  shall  reap  in  joy,"  in  singing. 
And  ''  He  that  goeth  forth  and  weepeth,  bearing  precious 
seeds,  shall  doubtless  come  again  with  rejoicing,  bringing  h)S 
Bheaves  with  him."     (Psa.  cxxvi:  5,  6.) 

Then  said  Mercy : 

*'  Let  the  most  Blessed  be  my  guide, 
If't  bo  his  blessed  will, 
Unto  his  gate,  into  his  fold. 
Up  to  his  holy  hill. 

**  And  let  him  never  suffer  me 
To  swerve  or  turn  aside 
From  his  free  p:race,  and  holy  ways, 
Whate'er  shall  me  betide. 

**  And  let  him  gather  them  of  mine. 
That  I  have  left  behind  ; 
Lord,  make  them  ])ray  they  may  be  thine. 
With  all  their  heart  and  mind." 

Kow  my  old  friend  proceeded  and  said:  "  But  when  Chris- 
tiana came  up  to  the  Slough  of  Despond,*  she  began  to  be  at 
a  stand;  'for,'  said  she,  '  this  is  the  place  in  which  my  dear 
husband  had  liked  to  have  been  smothered  with  mud.'  She 
perceived  also  that  notwithstanding  the  command  of  the 
King  to  make  this  place  for  pilgrims  good,  yet  it  was  rather 
worse  than  formerly."  So  I  asked  if  that  was  true.  "Yes," 
said  the  old  gentleman  "too  true;  for  that  many  there  be 
that  pretend  to  be  the  King's  labourers,  and  that  say  they  are 

*  See  page  17. 


ASSAULTS   TO   BE   EXPECTED.  185 

for  mending  the  King's  highway,  that  bring  dirt  and  dung 
instead  of  stones,  and  so  mar  instead  of  mending.  Here 
Christiana,  therefore,  with  her  boys,  did  make  a  stand;  but 
said  Mercy,  'Come,  let  us  venture,  only  let  us  be  wary.' 
Then  they  looked  well  to  tne  steps,  and  made  a  shift  to  get 
staggeringly  over. 

**  Yet  Christiana  had  like  to  have  been  in,  and  that  not 
once  nor  twice.  Now  they  had  no  sooner  got  over,  but  they 
thought  they  heard  words  that  said  unto  them,  '  Blessed  is 
she  that  believeth ;  for  there  shall  be  a  performance  of  those, 
things  which  were  told  her  from  the  Lord.'     (Luke  i.  45.) 

"  Then  they  went  on  again;  and  said  Mercy  to  Christiana, 
'  Had  I  as  good  ground  to  hope  for  a  loving  reception  at  the 
wicket-gate  as  you,  I  think  no  Slough  of  Despond  would  dis- 
courage me.'  'Well,'  said  the  other,  'you  know  your  sore, 
and  I  know  mine;  and,  good  friend,  we  shall  all  have  enough 
evil  before  we  come  at  our  journey's  end.  For  can  it  be  im- 
agined that  the  people  that  design  to  attain  such  excellent 
glories  as  we  do,  and  that  are  so  envied  that  happiness  as  we 
are,  but  that  we  shall  meet  with  what  fears  and  scares,  with 
what  troubles  and  afflictions  they  can  possibly  assault  us  with, 
that  hate  us  ? '  " 

And  now  Mr.  Sagacity  left  me  to  dream  out  my  dream  by 
myself.  Wherefore,  methought  I  saw  Christiana  and  Mercy, 
and  the  boys,  go  all  of  them  up  to  the  gate ;  to  which  when 
they  were  come,  they  betook  themselves  to  a  short  debate 
about  how  they  must  manage  their  calling  at  tl^^e  gate,  and 
what  should  be  said  to  him  that  did  open  to  them.  So  it  was 
concluded,  since  Christiana  was  the  eldest,  that  she  should 
knock  for  entrance,  and  that  she  should  speak  to  him  that 
did  open,  for  the  rest.  So  Christiana  began  to  knock ;  and, 
as  her  poor  husband  did,*  she  knocked,  and  knocked  again. 
But,  instead  of  any  that  answered,  they  all  thought  that  they 
heard  as  if  a  dog  came  barking  upon  them;  a  dog,  and  a  great 
*  See  page  27. 


186  CHRISTIANA  AT   THE   GATE. 

one  too,  and  this  made  the  women  and  children  afraid :  nor 
durst  they,  for  a  while,  to  knock  any  more,  for  fear  the  mas- 
tiff sliould  fly  upon  them.  Now,  therefore,  they  were  greatly 
tumbled  up  and  down  in  their  minds,  and  knew  not  what  to 
do;  knock  they  durst  not,  for  fear  of  the  dog;  go  back  they 
durst  not,  for  fear  the  Keeper  of  that  gate  should  espy  them 
as  they  so  went,  and  shoukl  be  offended  with  them.  At  last 
they  thought  of  knocking  again,  and  knocked  more  vehement- 
ly than  they  did  at  the  first.  Then  said  the  Keeper  of  the 
gate,  '*  Who  is  there  ?  "  So  the  dog  left  off  to  bark,  and  he 
opened  unto  them. 

Then  Christiana  made  low  obeisance,  and  said,  "Let  not 
our  Lord  be  offended  with  his  hand-maidens,  for  that  we  have 
knocked  at  his  princely  gate."  Theh  said  the  Keeper, 
*'  Whence  come  ye,  and  what  is  that  you  would  have  ?  " 

Christiana  answered,  '*  We  are  come  from  whence  Christian 
did  come,  and  upon  the  same  errand  as  he ;  to  wit,  to  be,  if 
it  shall  please  you,  graciously  admitted  by  this  gate  into  the 
way  that  leads  to  the  Celestial  City.  And  I  answer,  my  Lord, 
in  the  next  place,  that  I  am  Christiana,  once  the  wife  of 
Christian,  that  now  is  gotten  above." 

With  that  the  Keeper  of  the  gate  did  marvel,  saying, 
'*  What!  is  she  become  now  a  pilgrim  that,  but  a  while  ago, 
abhorred  that  life  ? "  Then  she  bow^d  her  head,  and  said, 
''Yes,  and  so  are  these  my  sweet  babes  also." 

Then  he  took  her  by  the  hand,  and  let  her  in,  and  said  also, 
"Suffer  lifctle  children  to  come  unto  me;"  and  with  that  he 
shut  up  the  gate.  This  done,  he  called  to  a  trumpeter  that 
was  above,  over  the  gate,  to  entertain  Christiana  with  shout- 
ing and  sound  of  trumpet  for  joy.  So  he  obeyed,  and  sound- 
ed, and  filled  the  air  with  his  melodious  notes.     (Luke  xv.  7.) 

Now  all  this  while  poor  Mercy  did  stand  without,  trembling 
and  crying,  for  fear  tliat  she  was  rejected.  But  when  Chris- 
tiana had  gotten  admittance  for  herself  and  her  boys,  then 
she  began  to  make  intercession  for  Mercy.     And  she  said, 


MERCY   FAINTS,   BUT   IS   LIFTED   UP.  187 

*^  My  Lord,  I  have  a  companion  of  mine  that  stands  yet  with- 
out, that  is  come  hither  upon  the  same  account  as  myself; 
one  that  is  much  dejected  in  her  mind,  for  that  she  comes,  as 
she  thinks,  without  sending  for ;  whereas  I  was  sent  to  by  my 
husband's  King  to  come." 

Now  Mercy  began  to  be  very  impatient,  for  each  minute  was 
as  long  to  her  as  an  hour;  wherefore  she  prevented  Christiana 
from  a  fuller  interceding  for  her,  by  knocking  at  the  gate  her- 
self. And  she  knocked  then  so  loud  that  she  made  Christiana 
to  start.  Then  said  the  Keeper  of  the  gate,  "Who  is  there  ? ' 
and  said  Christiana,  "It  is  my  friend." 

So  he  opened  the  gate,  and  looked  out,  but  Mercy  was 
fallen  down  without  in  a  swoon,  for  she  fainted,  and  was 
afraid  that  no  gate  would  be  opened  to  her. 

Tiien  he  took  her  by  the  hand,  and  said,  "Damsel,  I  bid 
thee  arise." 

"Oh,  sir,"  said  she,  "lam  faint;  there  is  scarce  life  left 
in  me."  But  he  answered  that  "one  once  said,  'When  my 
soul  fainted  within  me,  I  remembered  the  Lord;  and  my 
prayer  came  in  unto  thee,  into  thine  holy  temple.'  (Jonah  ii. 
7.)  Fear  not,  but  stand  upon  thy  feet,  and  tell  me  wherefore 
thou  art  come." 

Mercy.  I  am  come  for  that  unto  which  I  was  never  invited, 
as  my  friend  Christiana  was.  Hers  was  from  the  King,  mine 
was  but  from  her.     Wherefore  I  fear  I  presume . 

Keep.  Did  she  desire  thee  to  come  with  her  to  this  place  ? 

Mercy.  Yes,  and,  as  my  Lord  sees,  I  am  come.  And  if 
there  is  any  grace  or  forgiveness  of  sins  to  spare,  I  beseech 
that  I,  thy  poor  handmaid,  may  be  partaker  thereof. 

Then  he  took  her  again  by  the  hand,  and  led  her  gently  in, 
and  said,  "I  pray  for  all  them  that  believe  on  me,  by  what 
means  soever  they  come  unto  me."  Then  said  he  to  those 
that  stood  by,  "Fetch  something  and  give  to  Mercy  to  smell 
on,  thereby  to  stay  her  fainting."  So  they  fetched  her  a  bun- 
dle of  myrrh ;  and  a  while  after,  she  was  revived. 


188  THE   KIND   RECEPTION. 

And  now  was  Christiana  and  her  boys,  and  Mercy,  received 
of  the  Lord  at  the  head  of  the  way,  and  spoke  kindly  unto 
by  him.  Then  said  they  yet  further  unto  him, ' '  We  are  sorry  for 
our  sins,  and  beg  of  our  Lord  his-  pardon,  and  further  infor- 
mation what  we  must  do." 

'^I  grant  pardon,"  said  he,  "  by  word  and  deed;  by  word, 
in  the  promise  of  forgiveness ;  by  deed,  in  the  way  I  obtain 
it.  Take  the  first  from  my  lips  with  a  kiss  (Solomon's  Song 
i.   2),  and  the  other  as  it  shall  be  revealed."     (John  xx.  20.) 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  he  spake  many  good  words 
unto  them,  whereby  they  were  greatly  gladded.  He  also  had 
them  up  by  the  top  of  the  gate,  and  showed  them  by  what 
deed  they  were  saved ;  and  told  them  withal,  that  that  sight 
they  would  have  again,  as  they  went  along  in  the  way,  to 
their  comfort. 

So  he  left  them  awhile  in  a  summer  parlour  below,  where 
they  entered  into  talk  by  themselves;  and  thus  Christiana  be- 
gan :  **  O  Lord!  how  glad  am  I  that  we  are  got  in  hither." 

Mercy.  So  you  well  may ;  but  I  of  all  have  cause  to  leap  for 

joy- 

Chris.  I  thought  one  time  as  I  stood  at  the  gate  (because  I 
had  knocked  and  none  did  answer),  that  all  our  labour  had 
been  lost,  especially  when  that  u-gly  cur  made  such  a  heavy 
barking  at  us. 

Mercy.  But  my  worst  fear  was  after  I  saw  that  you  were 
taken  into  his  favour,  and  that  I  was  left  behind.  Now, 
thought  I,  it  is  fulfilled  what  is  written,  ''Two  women  shall 
be  grinding  together,  the  one  shall  be  taken  and  the  other 
left."  (Matt.  xxiv.  41.)  I  had  much  ado  to  forbear  crying 
out,  "Undone!  undone!"  And  afraid  I  was  to  knock  any 
more;  but  when  I  looked  up  to  what  was  written  over  the 
gate,  I  took  courage.  I  also  thought  that  I  must  either  knock 
again  or  die ;  so  I  knocked,  but  I  cannot  tell  how,  for  my 
spirit  now  struggled  betwixt  life  and  death. 

Chris.  Can  you  not  tell  how  you  knocked  ?     I  am  sure  your 


TAKING   THE   KINGDOM   BY   STORM.  189 

knocks  were  so  earnest,  that  the  very  sound  of  them  made  me 
start ;  I  thought  I  never  heard  such  knocking  in  all  my  life ;  I 
thought  you  would  have  come  in  by  violent  hands  or  have 
taken  the  kingdom  by  storm.     (Matt,  xi.  12.) 

Mercy.  Alas !  to  be  in  my  case,  who  that  so  was  could  but 
have  done  so  ?  You  saw  that  the  door  was  shut  upon  me, 
and  that  there  was  a  most  cruel  dog  thereabout.  Who,  I  say, 
that  was  so  faint-hearted  as  I,  that  would  not  have  knocked 
with  all  their  might  ?  But  pray,  what  said  my  Lord  to  my 
rudeness  ?     Was  he  not  angry  with  me  ? 

Chris.  Wlien  he  heard  your  lumbering  noise,  he  gave  a 
wonderful,  innocent  smile;  I  believe  what  you  did  pleased 
him  well  enough,  for  he  showed  no  sign  to  the  contrary.  But 
I  marvel  in  my  heart  why  he  keeps  such  a  dog;  had  I  known 
that  before,  I  fear  I  should  not  have  had  heart  enough  to  have 
ventured  myself  in  this  manner.  But  now  we  are  in,  we  are 
in ;  and  I  am  glad  with  all  my  heart. 

Mercy.  I  will  ask,  if  you  please,  next  time  he  comes  down, 
why  he  keeps  such  a  filthy  cur  in  his  yard.  I  hope  he  will 
not  take  it  amiss. 

*' Ay,  do,"  said  the  children,  *'and  persuade  him  to  hang 
him;  for  we  are  afraid  he  will  bite  us  when  we  go  hence." 

So  at  last  he  came  down  to  them  again,  and  Mercy  fell  to 
the  ground  on  her  face  before  him,  and  worshipped,  and  said, 
"L^t  my  Lord  accept  of  the  sacrifice  of  praise  which  I  now 
offer  unto  him  with  the  calves  of  my  lips." 

So  he  said  unto  her,  "Peace  be  to  thee;  stand  up." 

But  she  continued  on  her  face,  and  said,  '^Righteous  art 
thou,  O  Lord,  when  I  plead  with  thee:  yet  let  me  talk  with 
thee  of  thy  judgments.  (Jer.  xii.  1.)  Wherefore  dost  thou 
keep  so  cruel  a  dog  in  thy  yard,  at  the  sight  of  which  such 
women  and  children  as  we  are  ready  to  fly  from  thy  gate  for 
fear  ? " 

He  answered  and  said,  ''That  dog  has  ^mother  owner;  he 
also  is  kept  close  in  another  man's  ground,  only  my  pilgrims 


190  FEARS  ABOUT  THE  DOG. 

hear  his  barking.  He  belongs  to  the  castle  which  you  see 
there  at  a  distance,  but  can  come  up  to  the  walls  of  this  place. 
He  has  frightened  many  an  honest  pilgrim  from  worse  to  bet- 
ter, by  the  great  voice  of  his  roaring.  Indeed,  he  that  owneth 
him  doth  not  keep  him  of  any  good  will  to  me  or  mine,  but 
with  intent  to  keep  the  pilgrims  from  coming  to  me,  and  that 
they  may  be  afraid  to  knock  at  this  gate  for  entrance.  Some- 
times also  he  has  broken  out,  and  has  worried  some  that  I 
love ;  but  I  take  all  at  present  patiently.  I  also  give  my  pil- 
grims timely  help,  so  they  are  npt  delivered  up  to  his  power, 
to  do  to  them  what  his  doggish  nature  would  prompt  him  to 
do.  But  what !  my  purchased  one,  I  trow,  hadst  thou  known 
never  so  much  beforehand,  thou  wouldst  not  have  been  afraid 
of  a  dog.  The  beggars  that  go  from  door  to  door  will,  rather 
than  they  will  lose  a  supposed  alms,  run  the  hazard  of  the 
bawling,  barking,  and  biting,  too,  of  a  dog ;  and  shall  a  dog 
— a  dog  in  another  man's  yard,  a  dog  whose  barking  I  turn 
to  the  profit  of  pilgrims — keep  any  from  coming  to  me  ?  I 
deliver  them  from  the  lions,  their  darlings  from  the  power  of 
the  dog." 

Then  said  Mercy,  "  I  confess  my  ignorance;  I  spake  what 
I  understood  not ;  I  acknowledge  that  thou  doest  all  things 
well." 

Then  Christiana  began  to  talk  of  their  journey,  and  to  in- 
quire after  the  way.  So  he  fed  them  and  washed  their  feet, 
and  set  them  in  the  way  of  his  steps,  according  as  he  had  dealt 
with  her  husband  before.  *  So  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  they 
walked  on  in  their  way,  and  had  the  weather  very  comfortable 
to  them. 

Then  Christiana  began  to  sing,  saying — 

''Bless'd  be  the  day  that  I  began 
A  pilgrim  for  to  be  ; 
And  blessed  also  be  that  man 
Tli^t  thereto  moved  me. 

*  See  page  29. 


TWO   ILL-FAVOURED  ONES  191 

*''Tis  true,  't  was  long  ere  I  began 
To  seek  to  live  for  ever  : 
But  now  I  run  fast  as  I  can  ; 
'T  is  better  late  than  never. 

'*  Our  tears  to  joy,  our  fears  to  faitli, 
Are  turned,  as  we  see  ; 
Thus  our  beginning,  as  one  saith, 
Shows  what  our  end  will  be." 

Kow  there  was,  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall  that  fenced  in 
the  way  up  which  Christiana  and  her  companions  were  to  go, 
a  garden,  and  that  garden  belonged  to  him  whose  was  that 
barking  dog  of  whom  mention  was  made  before.  And  some 
of  the  fruit-trees  that  grew  in  that  garden  shot  their  branches 
over  the  wall;  and  being  mellow,  they  that  found  them  did 
gather  them  up,  and  oft  ate  of  them  to  their  hurt.  So  Chris- 
tiana's boys,  as  boys  are  apt  to  do,  being  pleased  with  the 
trees,  and  with  the  fruit  that  did  hang  thereon,  did  plash* 
them,  and  began  to  eat.  Their  mother  did  also  chide  them 
for  so  doing,  but  still  the  boys  went  on. 

'*  Well,"  said  she,  ''my  sons,  you  transgress,  for  that  fruit 
is  none  of  ours; "  but  she  did  not  know  that  they  did  belong 
to  the  enemy;  I  will  warrant  you,  if  she  had,  she  would  have 
been  ready  to  die  for  fear.  But  that  passed,  and  they  went 
on  their  way.  Now,  by  that  they  were  gone  about  two  bow- 
shots from  the  place  that  led  them  into  the  way,  they  espied 
two  very  ill-favoured  ones  coming  down  apace  to  meet  them. 
With  that,  Christiana  and  Mercy  her  friend  covered  them- 
selves with  their  veils,  and  so  kept  on  their  journey;  the  chil- 
dren also  went  on  before,  so  that  at  last  they  met  together. 
Then  they  that  came  down  to  meet  them  came  just  up  to  the 
women,  as  if  they  would  embrace  them:  but  Christiana  said, 
'*  Stand  back,  or  go  peaceably  by,  as  you  should. "  Yet  these 
two  men,  as  men  that  are  deaf,  regarded  not  Christiana's 
words,  but  began  to  lay  hands  upon  them.     At  that,  Christi- 

*  Beat  the  boughs,  thus  knocking  off  the  fruit. 


193  ASSAULT   THE   PILGRIMS. 

ana,  waxing  very  wroth,  spurned  at  them  with  her  feet. 
Mercy  also,  as  well  as  she  could,  did  what  she  could  to  shift 
them.  Christiana  again  said  to  them,  "Stand  back,  and  be 
gone ;  for  we  have  no  money  to  lose,  being  pilgrims,  as  you 
see,  and  such,  too,  as  live  upon  the  chanty  of  our  friends." 

Then  said  one  of  the  two  men,  "  We  make  no  assault  upon 
you  for  money,  but  are  come  out  to  tell  you  that  if  you  will  but 
grant  one  small  request,  which  we  shall  ask,  we  will  make 
women  of  you  forever." 

Now  Christiana,  imagining  what  they  should  mean,  made 
answer  again,  "  We  will  neither  hear,  nor  regard,  nor  yield  to 
what  you  shall  ask.  We  are  in  haste,  and  cannot  stay ;  our 
business  is  a  business  of  life  and  death."  So,  again,  she  and 
her  companions  made  fresh  essay  to  go  past  them;  but  they 
letted  them  in  their  way. 

And  they  said,  "We  intend  no  hurt  to  your  lives;  it  is 
another  thing  w©  would  have." 

"Ay,"  quoth  Christiana,  "you  would  have  us  body  and 
soul,  for  I  know  it  is  for  that  you  are  come ;  but  we  Will  die 
rather  upon  the  spot  than  suffer  ourselves  to  be  brought  into 
such  snares  as  shall  hazard  our  well-being  hereafter."  And 
with  that  they  both  shrieked  out,  and  cried,  "Murder!  mur- 
der! "  and  so  put  themselves  under  those  laws  that  are  pro- 
vided for  the  protection  of  women.  (Deut.  xxii.  23,  26,  27.)  But 
the  men  still  made  their  approach  upon  them,  with  design  to 
prevail  against  them.     They  therefore  cried  out  again. 

Now,  they  being,  as  I  said,  not  far  from  the  gate  in  at 
which  they  came,  their  voice  was  heard  from  where  they  were 
thither;'  wherefore  some  of  the  house  came  out,  and  knowing 
that  it  was  Christiana's  tongue,  they  made  haste  to'her  relief. 
But  by  that  they  were  got  within  sight  of  them,  the  women 
were  in  a  very  great  scuffle ;  the  children  also  stood  crying 
by.  Then  did  he  that  came  in  for  their  relief  call  out  to  the 
ruffians,  saying,  "What  is  that  thing  that  you  do  ?  Would 
you  make  my  Lord's  people  to  transgress  ?  "    He  also  attempt- 


TWO  ILL  F^VO"^^n   ov^q  «.'Dac^  191. 


A  CONFESSION.  193 

ed  to  .take  them,  but  they  did  make  their  escape  over  the  wall 
into  the  garden  of  the  man  to  whom  the  great  dog  belonged; 
so  the  dog  became  their  protector.  This  Reliever  then  came 
up  to  the  women,  and  asked  them  how  they  did.  So  they 
answered,  ''We  thank  thy  Prince,  pretty  well,  only  we  have 
been  somewhat  affrighted ;  we  thank  thee  also  for  that  thou 
camest  in  to  our  help,  for  otherwise  we  had   ])een  overcome." 

So,  after  a  few  more  words,  this  Reliever  said  as  foUoweth : 
*' I  marvelled  much  when  you  were  entertained  at  the  gate 
above,  being  ye  knew  that  ye  were  but  weak  women,  that  you 
petitioned  not  the  Lord  there  for  a  conductor;  then  might 
you  have  avoided  these  troubles  and  daiigois,  for  he  would 
have  granted  you  one." 

"Alas!  "  said  Christiana,  "we  were  so  taken  with  our  pres- 
ent blessing,  that  dangers  to  come  were  forgotten  by  us;  be- 
sides, who  could  have  thought  that  so  near  the  King's  palace 
there  should  have  lurked  such  naughty  ones  ?  Indeed,  it  had 
been  well  for  us  had  we  asked  our  Lord  for  one ;  but,  since 
our  Lord  knew  it  would  be  for  our  profit,  I  wonder  he  sent 
not  one  along  with  us." 

Rel.  It  is  not  always  necessary  to  grant  things  not  asked 
for,  lest,  by  so  doing,  they  become  of  little  esteem ;  but  when 
the  want  of  a  thing  is  felt,  it  then  comes  under,  in  the  eyes 
of  him  that  feels  it,  that  estimate  that  pi'operly  is  its  due,  and 
so,  consequently,  will  be  thereafter  used .  Had  my  Lord 
granted  you  a  conductor,  you  would  not  either  so  have  be- 
wailed that  oversight  of  yours,  in  not  asking  for  one,  as  now 
you  have  occasion  to  do.  So  all  things  work  for  good,  and 
tend  to  make  you  wary. 

Chris.  Shall  we  go  back  again  to  my  Lord,  and  confess  our 
folly,  and  ask  one  ? 

Rel    Your  confession  of  your  folly  I  will  present  him  with. 

To  go  back  you  need  not ;  for  in  all  places  where  you  shall 

come,  yoa  will  find  no  want  at  all ;  for  in  every  of  my  Lord's 

lodgings  which  he  has  prepared  for  the  reception  of   his  pil- 

r.  P 7. 


194  CHRISTIANA  CONFESSES  HER  FAFLT. 

grims,  there  is  sufficient  to  furnisli  them  against  all  attempts 
whatsoever.  But,  as  I  said,  ''  He  will  be  inquired  of  by 
them,  to  do  it  for  them."  (Ezek.  xxxvi.  37.)  And  it  is  a 
poor  thing  that  is  not  worth  asking  for. 

"When  he  had  thus  said,  he  went  back  to  his  place,  and  the 
pilgrims  v/ent  on  their  way. 

Then  said  Mercy,  ''What  a  sudden  blank  is  here!  I  made 
account  we  had  now  been  past  all  danger,  and  that  we 
should  never  see  sorrow  more." 

''Thy  iunocency,  my  sister,"  said  Christiana  to  Mercy, 
"may  excuse  thee  much;  but  as  for  me,  my  fault  is  so  much 
the  greater  for  that  I  saw  this  danger  before  I  came  out  of  the 
doors,  and  yet  did  not  provide  for  it,  where  provision  might 
have  been  had.     lam  therefore  much  to  be  blamed." 

Then  said  Mercy,  "How  knew  you  this  before  you  came 
from  home  ?     Pray  open  to  me  this  riddle." 

Chkis.  Why,  I  will  tell  you.  Before  I  set  foot  out  of  doors, 
one  night,  as  I  lay  in  my  bed,  I  had  a  dream  about  this;  for, 
raethought  I  saw  two  men,  as  like  these  as  ever  the  world 
they  could  look,  stand  at  my  bed's  feet,  plotting  how  they 
might  prevent  my  salvation.  I  will  tell  you  their  very  words. 
They  said  (it  was  when  I  was  in  my  troubles),  "What  shall 
we  do  with  this  woman  ?  for  she  cries  out,  waking  and  sleep- 
ing, for  forgiveness.  If  she  be  suffered  to  go  on  as  she  begins, 
we  shall  lose  her,  as  we  have  lost  her  husband."  This,  you 
know,  might  have  made  me  take  heed,  and  have  provided 
when  provision  might  have  been  had. 

"Well,"  said  Mercy,  "as  by  this  neglect  we  have  an  occa- 
sion ininistercd  unto  us  to  beliold  our  own  imperfections,  so 
our  Lord  has  taken  occasion  thereby  to  make  manifest  the 
riches  of  his  grace ;  for  he,  as  we  see,  has  followed  us  with 
unasked  kindness,  and  has  delivered  us  from  their  hands, that 
were  stronger  than  we,  of  his  mere  good  pleasure." 

Thus  now,  when  they  had  talked  away  a  little  more  time, 
they  drew  near  to  a  house  which  stood  in  the  way,  which 


THE  INTERPRETER'S  HOUSE.  195 

house  was  built  for  the  relief  of  pilgrims ;  as  you  will  find 
more  fully  related  in  the  First  Part  of  these  records  of  the 
Pilgrim's  Progress.  So  they  drew  on  towards  the  house  (the 
house  of  the  Interpreter),  and  when  they  came  to  the  door, 
they  heard  a  great  talk  in  the  house.  They  then  gave  ear, 
and  heard,  as  they  thought,  Christiana  roentioned  by  name. 
For  you  must  know  that  there  went  along,  even  before  her,  a 
talk  of  her  and  her  children's  going  on  pilgrimage.  And 
this  thing  was  the  more  pleasing  to  them  because  they  had 
heard  that  she  was  Christian's  wife,  that  woman  who  was 
some  time  ago  so  unwilling  to  hear  of  going  on  pilgrimage. 
Thus,  therefore,  they  stood  still,  and  heard  the  good  people 
within  commending  her,  who,  they  little  thought,  stood  at 
the  door.  At  last  Christiana  knocked,  as  she  had  done  at 
the  gate  before.  Now  when  she  had  knocked,  there  came  to 
the  door  a  young  damsel  named  Innocent,  and  opened  the 
door  and  looked,  and  behold,  two  women  were  there. 

Then  said  the  damsel  to  them,  "With  whom  would  you 
speak  in  this  place  ? " 

Christiana  answered,  "We  understand  that  this  is  a  privi- 
leged place  for  those  that  are  become  pilgrims,  and  we  now 
at  this  door  are  such;  wherefore  we  pray  that  we  may  be 
partakers  of  that  for  which  we  at  this  time  are  come;  for 
the  day,  as  thou  seest,  is  very  far  spent,  and  we  are  loath  to- 
night to  go  any  further." 

Damsel.  Pray,  what  may  I  call  your  name,  that  I  may  tell 
it  to  my  Lord  within  ? 

CiiRis.  My  name  is  Christiana;  I  was  the  wife  of  that 
pilgrim  that  some  years  ago  did  travel  this  way,  and  these  be 
his  four  children.  This  maiden  is  also  my  companion,  and  is 
going  on  pilgrimage  too. 

Then  ran  Innocent  in  (for  that  was  her  name),  and  said  to 
those  within,  "Can  you  think  who  is  at  the  door?  There  is 
Christiana  and  her  children,  and  her  companion,  all  waiting 
for  entertainment  here."     Then  they  leaped  for  joy,  and  v/ent 


196  GREAT   REJOICING. 

and  told  their  master.  So  he  came  to  the  door,  and,  looking 
upon  her,  he  said,  ''Art  thou  that  Christiana  whom  Christian, 
the  good  man,  left  behind  him,  when  he  betook  himself  to  a 
pilgrim's  life  ? " 

Chris.  I  am  that  woman  that  was  so  hardhearted  as  to  slight 
my  husband's  troubles,  and  that  left  him  to  go  on  in  his  jour- 
ney alone ;  and  these  are  his  four  children :  but  now  I  also  am 
come,  for  I  am  convinced  that  no  way  is  right  but  this. 

Inter.  Then  is  fulfilled  that  which  also  is  written  of  the 
man  that  said  to  his  son,  "  Go  work  to-day  in  my  vineyard. 
He  answered  and  said,  I  will  not:  but  afterward  he  repented, 
and  went."     (Matt.  xxi.  28,  29.) 

Then  said  Christiana,  ''So  be  it:  Amen.  God  make  it  a 
true  saying  upon  me,  and  grant  that  T  may  be  found  at  the 
last  of  him  in  peace,  without  spot,  and  blameless!  " 

Inter.  But  why  standest  thou  thus  at  the  door  ?  Come  in, 
thou  daughter  of  Abraham.  We  were  talking  of  thee  but 
now ;  for  tidings  have  come  to  us  before,  how  thou  art  become 
a  pilgrim.  Come,  children,  come  in ;  come,  maiden,  come  in. 
So  he  had  them  all  into  the  house. 

So,  when  they  were  within,  they  were  bidden  sit  down  and 
rest  them ;  the  which  when  they  had  done,  those  that  attended 
upon  the  pilgrims  in  the  house  came  into  the  room  to  see 
them.  And  one  smiled,  and  another  smiled,  and  they  all 
smiled  for  joy  that  Christiana  was  become  a  pilgrim.  They 
also  looked  upon  the  boys.  They  stroked  them  over  the  faces 
with  the  hand,  in  token  of  their  kind  reception  of  them. 
They  also  carried  it  lovingly  to  Mercy,  and  bid  them  all  wel- 
come into  their  Master's  house. 

After  a  while,  l)ecause  supper  was  not  ready,  the  Interpreter 
took  them  into  his  significant  rooms,  and  showed  them^%vhat 
Christian,  Christiana's  husband,  had  seen  some  time  before.* 
Here,  therefore,  they  saw  the  man  in  the  cage,  the  man  and 
his  dream,  the  man  that  cut  his  way  through  his  enemies,  and 
*  See  page  35, 


A  CARNAL  MIND.  197 

the  picture  of  the  biggest  of  them  all,  together  with  the  rest 
of  those  things  that  were  then  so  profitable  to  Christian. 

This  done,  and  after  these  things  had  been  somewhat  digest- 
ed by  Christiana  and  her  company,  the  Interpreter  takes 
them  apart  again,  and  has  them  first  into  a  room  where  was 
a  man  that  could  look  no  way  but  downwards,  with  a 
muck-rake  in  his  hand.  There  stood  also  One  over  his  head, 
and  a  celestial  crown  in  his  hand,  and  proffered  to  give  him 
that  crown  for  his  muck-rake;  but  the  man  did  neither  look 
up,  nor  regard,  but  raked  to  himself  the  straws,  the  small 
sticks,  and  dust  of  the  floor. 

Then  said  Christiana,  "  I  persuade  myself  that  I  know  some- 
what the  meaning  of  this ;  for  this  is  a  figure  of  a  man  of  this 
world,  is  it  not,  good  sir  ? " 

^'Thou  hast  said  the  right,"  said  the  Interpreter;  *'and  his 
muck-rake  doth  show  his  carnal  mind.  And  whereas  thou 
seest  him  rather  give  heed  to  rake  up  straws  and  sticks,  and 
the  dust  of  the  floor,  than  to  what  He  says  that  calls  to  him 
from  above  with  the  celestial  crown  in  his  hand,  it  is  to  show 
that  heaven  is  but  as  a  fable  to  some,  and  that  things  here  are 
counted  the  only  things  substantial.  Now,  whereas  it  Avas 
also  showed  thee  that  the  man  could  look  no  way  but  down- 
wards, it  is  to  let  thee  know  that  earthly  things,  when  they 
are  with  power  upon  men's  minds,  quite  carry  their  hearts 
away  from  God." 

Then  said  Christiana,  "Oh!  deliver  me  from  this  muck- 
rake! " 

"  That  prayer,"  said  the  Interpreter,  "  has  lain  by  till  it  is 
almost  rusty.  '  Give  me  not  riches '  (Prov.  xxx.  8)  is  scarce 
the  prayer  of  one  in  ten  thousand .  Straws,  and  sticks,  and 
dust,  with  most,  are  the  great  things  now  looked  after." 

With  that,  Mercy  and  Christiana  wept,  and  said,  "  It  is, 
alas!  too  true." 

When  the  Interpreter  had  shown  them  this,  he  had  them  into 
the  very  best  room  in  the  house ;  a  very  brave  room  it  was. 


198  A  SPIDER  ON  THE  WALL. 

So  he  bid  them  look  round  about,  and  see  if  they  could  find 
anything  profitable  there.  Then  they  looked  round  and 
round;  for  there  was  nothing  thereto  be  seen  but  a  very 
great  spider  on  the  wall:  and  that  they  overlooked. 

Then  said  Mercy,  ''  Sir,  I  see  nothing;  "  but  Christiana  held 
her  peace, 

''But,'*  said  the  Interpreter,  "look  again;"  and  she  there- 
fore looked  again,  and  said,  "Here  is  not  anything  but  an 
ugly  spider  wlio  hangs  by  her  hands  upou  the  wall."  Then 
said  he,  "Is  there  but  one  spider  in  all  this  spacious  room  ?" 
Then  the  water  stood  in  Christiana's  eyes,  for  she  was  a 
woman  quick  of  apprehension;  and  she  said,  "Yes,  Lord, 
there  is  here  more  than  one.  Yea,  and  spiders  whose  venom 
is  far  more  destructive  than  that  which  is  in  her."  The  Inter- 
preter then  looked  pleasantly  upon  her,  and  said,  "Thou hast 
said  the  truth."  This  made  Mercy  blush,  and  the  boys  to 
cover  their  faces,  for  they  all  began  now  to  understand  the 
riddle. 

Then  said  the  Interpreter  again,  "The  spider  taketh  hold 
with  her  hands  (as  you  see),  and  is  in  kings'  palaces.  (Prov. 
XXX.  28.)  And  wherefore  is  this  recorded,  to  show  you  that 
how  full  of  the  venom  of  sin  soever  you  be,  yet  you  may,  by 
the  hand  of  faith,  lay  hold  of,  and  dwell  in  the  best  room  that 
belongs  to  the  King's  house  above." 

"  I.thought,"  said  Christiana,  "of  something  of  this;  but  I 
could  not  imagine  it  all.  I  thought  that  we  were  like  spiders, 
and  that  we  looked  like  ugly  creatures,  in  what  fine  room 
soever  we  were ;  but  that  by  this  spider,  this  venomous  and  ill- 
favoured  creature,  we  were  to  learn  how  to  act  faith,  that 
came  not  into  my  mind.  And  yet  she  has  taken  hold  with 
her  liands,  as  I  see,  and  dwells  in  the  best  room  in  the  house. 
God  has  made  nothing  in  vain." 

Then  they  seemed  all  to  be  glad ;  but  the  water  stood  in 
their  eyes :  yet  they  looked  one  upon  another,  and  also  bowed 
before  the  Interpreter. 


PILGRIMS   MUST   LEARN   TO   SUFFER.  199 

He  liacl  tbem  then  into  another  room,  where  was  a  hen  and 
chickens,  and  bid  them  observe  a  while.  So  one  of  the"  chick- 
ens went  to  the  trough  to  drink,  and  every  time  she  drank 
she  lift  up  her  head  and  her  eyes  towards  heaven.  ''  See,"  said 
he,  ''what  this  little  chick  doth,  and  learn  of  her  to  acknowl- 
edge whence  your  mercies  come,  by  receiving  them  with  look- 
ing up.  Yet  again,"  said  he,  "observe  and  look;"  so  they 
gave  heed,  and  perceived  that  the  hen  did  walk  in  a  fourfold 
method  towards  her  chickens.  1.  She  had  a  common  call, 
and  that  she  hath  all  day  long.  3.  She  had  a  special  call,  and 
that  she  had  but  sometimes.  3.  She  had  a  brooding  note. 
And,  4.  She  had  an  outcry.     (Matt,  xxiii.  37.) 

''Now,"  said  he,  "compare  this  hen  to  your  King,  and 
these  chickens  to  his  obedient  ones.  For,  answerable  to  her, 
himself  has  his  methods,  which  he  walketh  in  towards  his 
people;  by  his^common  call  he  gives  nothing;  by  his  special 
call  he  always  has  something  to  giye  ;  he  has  also  a  brood- 
ing voice,  for  them  that  are  under  his  wing ;  and  he  has  an 
outcry  to  give  the  alarm  when  he  seeth  the  enemy  come.  I 
choose,  my  darlings,  to  lead  you  into  the  room  where  such 
things  are,  because  you  are  women,  and  they  are  easy  for  you." 

"And,  'sir,"  said  Christiana,  "  pray  let  us  see  some  more." 
So  he  had  them  into  the  slaughter-house,  where  was  a  butcher 
killing  of  a  sheep;  and  behold,  the  sheep  was  quiet,  and  took 
her  death  patiently.  Then  said  the  Interpreter,  "  You  must 
learn  of  this  sheep  to  suffer,  and  to  put  up  wrongs  without 
murmurmga  and  complaints.  Behold  how  quietly  she  taketh 
her  death,  and  without  objecting  she  suffereth  her  skin  to  be 
pulled  over  her  ears.     Your  King  doth  call  you  his  sheep." 

After  this,  he  led  them  into  his  garden,  where  was  great 
variety  of  flowers ;  and  he  said,  "  Do  you  see  all  these  ?  "  So 
Christiana  said,  "Yes."  Then  said  he  again,  "Behold  the 
flowers  are  diverse  in  stature,  in  quality,  and  colour,  and 
smell,  and  virtue;  and  some  are  better  than  some;  also  where 
the  gardener  hath  set  them,  there  they  stand,  and  quarrel  not 
pne  with  another." 


300  PICTURE   OF   THE   MERE   PROFESSOR. 

Again  he  had  them  into  his  field,  which  he  had  sowed  with 
wheat  and  corn;  but  when  they  beheld,  the  tops  of  all  were 
cut  off,  only  the  straw  remained.  He  said  again,  ''This 
ground  was  dunged,  and  ploughed,  and  sowed ;  but  what 
sliall  we  do  Vvdth  the  crop  ?  "  Then  said  Christiana,  "  Burn 
some,  and  make  muck  of  the  rest."  Then  said  the  Interpre- 
ter again,  "Fruit,  you  see,  is  that  thing  you  look  for,  and 
for  want  of  that  you  condemn  it  to  the  fire,  and  to  be  trod- 
den under  foot  of  men;  beware  that  in  this  you  condemn  not 
yourselves." 

Then,  as  they  were  coming  in  from  abroad,  they  espied  a 
little  robiu,  with  a  great  spider  in  his  mouth ;  so  the  Intepre- 
ter  said,  "  Look  here."  So  they  looked,  and  Mercy  wondered : 
but  Christiana  said,  "What  a  disparagement  is  it  to  such  a 
little  pretty  bird  as  the  robin-red-breast  is,  he  being  also  a 
bird  above  many,  that  loveth  to  maintain  a  kind  of  sociable- 
ness  with  man;  I  had  thought  they  had  lived  upon  crumbs  of 
bread,  or  upon  other  such  harmless  matter.  I  like  him  worse 
than  I  did." 

The  Interpreter  then  replied,  "This  robin  is  an  emblem 
very  apt  to  set  forth  some  professors  by ;  for  to  sight  they  are, 
as  this  robin,  pretty  of  note,  colour,  and  carriage  ;*they  seem 
also  to  have  a  very  great  love  for  professors  that  are  sincere ; 
and,  above  all  other,  to  desire  to  sociate  with  them,  and  to  be 
in  their  company,  as  if  they  could  live  upon  the  good  man's 
crumbs.  They  pretend  also  that  therefore  it  is  that  they  fre- 
quent the  house  of  the  godly  and  the  appointments  of  the 
Lord ;  but,  when  they  are  by  themselves,  as  the  robin,  they 
can  catch  and  gobble  up  sjjiders,  they  can  change  their  diet, 
drink  iniquity,  and  swallow  down  sin  like  water. 

So,  when  they  were  come  again  into  the  house,  because  sup- 
per as  yet  was  not  ready,  Christiana  again  desired  that  the  In- 
terpreter would  either  show  or  tell  of  some  other  things  that 
are  profitable . 

Then  the  Interpreter  began  and  said,  "  The  fatter  the  sow 


PROFITABLE   SAYINGS.  201 

is,  the  more  she  desires  the  mire;  the  fatter  the  ox  is,  the 
more  gamesomely  he  goes  to  the  slaughter ;  and  the  more 
healthy  the  lusty  man  is,  the  more  prone  he  is  unto  eviL 

' '  There  is  a  desire  in  women  to  go  neat  and  fine,  and  it  is 
a  comely  thing  to  be  adorned  with  that  that  in  God's  sight  is 
of  great  price. 

**  It  is  easier  watching  a  night  or  two,  than  to  sit  up  a  whole 
year  together ;  so  it  is  easier  for  one  to  begin  to  profess  well, 
tlian  to  hold  out  as  he  should  to  the  end. 

"  Every  shipmaster  when  in  a  storm,  will  willingly  cast  that 
overboard  that  is  of  the  smallest  value  in  the  vessel ;  but  who 
"will  throw  the  best  out  first  ?  None  but  he  that  feareth  not 
God. 

"  One  leak  will  sink  a  ship;  and  one  sin  will  destroy  a  sin- 
ner. 

'*  He  that  forgets  his  friend  is  ungrateful  unto  him;  but  he 
that  forgets  his  Saviour  is  unmerciful  to  himself. 

'''  He  that  lives  in  sin,  and  looks  for  happiness  hereafter,  is 
like  him  that  soweth  cockle,  and  thinks  to  fill  his  barn  with 
wheat  or  barley. 

"If  a  man  would  live  well,  let  him  fetch  his  last  day  to 
him,  and  make  it  always  his  company  keeper. 

"  Whispering  and  change  of  thoughts  prove  that  sin  is  in 
the  world. 

"  If  the  world,  which  God  sets  light  by,  is  counted  a  thing 
of  that  worth  with  men,  what  is  heaven,  wliicli  God  com- 
mendeth  ? 

*'If  the  life  that  is  attended  with  so  many  troubles  is  so 
loath  to  be  let  go  by  us,  what  is  the  life  above  ? 

"Everybody  will  cry  up  the  goodness  of  men;  but  who  is 
there  that  is,  as  he  should  be,  affected  with  the  goodness  of 
God? 

"We  seldom  sit  down  to  meat,  but  we  eat  and  leave;  so 
there  is  in  Jesus  Christ  more  merit  and  righteousness  than  the 
whole  world  has  need  of." 


202  CHRISTIANA'S  EXPERIENCE. 

When  the  Interpreter  had  done,  he  takes  them  out  into  his 
garden  again,  and  had  them  to  a  tree,  whose  inside  was  all  rot- 
ten and  gone,  and  yet  it  grew  and  had  leaves.  Then  said  Mercy, 
'*  What  means  this  ? "  *'  This  tree,"  said  he,  ''whose  outside 
is  fair,  and  whose  inside  is  rotten,  it  is  to  w^hich  many  may 
be  compared  that  are  in  the  garden  of  God ;  who  with  their 
mouth  speak  high  in  behalf  of  God,  but  indeed  will  do  no- 
tliing  for  him ;  whose  leaves  are  fair,  but  their  heart  good  for 
nothing  but  to  be  tiuder  for  the  devil's  tinder-box." 

Now  supper  was  ready,  the  table  spread,  and  all  things  set 
on  the  board;  so  they  sat  down  and  did  eat,  when  one  had 
given  thanks.  And  the  Interpreter  did  usually  entertain  those 
that  lodged  with  him,  with  music  at  meals;  so  the  minstrels 
played.  There  was  also  one  that  did  sing,  and  a  very  fine 
voice  he  had.     His  song  was  this: 

"  The  Lord  is  only  my  support, 
And  he  that  doth  me  feed  ; 
How  can  I  then  want  anything 
Whereof  I  stand  in  need?  " 

When  the  song  and  music  were  ended,  the  Interpreter  asked 
Christiana  what  it  was  that  at  first  did  move  her  to  betake 
herself  to  a  pilgrims's  life.  Christiana  answered,  ''First,  the 
loss  of  my  husband  came  into  my  mind,  at  which  I  was  hearti- 
ly grieved*,  but  all  that  was  but  natural  affection.  .Then  after 
that,  came  the  troubles  and  pilgrimage  of  my  husband  into 
my  mind,  and  also  how  like  a  churl  I  had  carried  it  to  him  as 
to  that.  So  guilt  took  hold  of  my  mind,  and  would  have 
drawn  mo  into  the  pond;  but  that  opportunely  I  had  a  dream 
of  the  well-being  of  my  husband,  and  a  letter  sent  me  by  the 
King  of  that  country  where  my  husband  dwells,  to  come  to 
him.  The  dream  and  the  letter  together  so  wrought  upon 
my  mind  that  they  forced  me  to  this  way." 

Inter.  But  met  you  with  no  opposition  before  you  set  out 
of  doors  ? 

Chris.  Yes ;  a  neighbour  of  mine,  one  Mrs.  Timorous  (she 


MERCY'S   EXPERIENCE.  203 

was  akin  to  him  that  would  have  persuaded  my  husband  to  go 
back,  for  fear  of  the  lions).  She  all-to-befooled  me  for,  as 
she  called  it,  my  intended  desperate  adventure ;  she  also 
urged  what  she  could,  to  dishearten  me  to  it,  the  hardship 
and  troubles  that  my  husband  met  with  in  the  way;  but  all 
this  I  got  over  pretty  well.  But  a  dream  that  I  had  of  two 
ill-looked  ones,  tlixit*!  thought  did  plot  how  to  make  me  mis- 
carry in  my  journey,  that  hath  troubled  me  much ;  yea,  it  still 
runs  in  my  mind,  and  makes  me  afraici  of  every  one  that  I 
meet,  lest  they  should  meet  me  to  do  me  a  mischief,  and  to 
turn  me  out  of  the  way.  Yea,  I  may  tell  my  Lord,  though  I 
would  not  have  everybody  know  it,  that  between  this  and  the 
gate  by  which  we  got  into  the  way  we  were  both  so  sorely 
assaulted  that  we  were  made  to  cry  out  "Murder! ''  and  the 
two  that  made  this  assault  U2)on  us  were  like  the  two  that  I 
saw  in  my  dream. 

Then  said  the  Interpreter,  '  *  Thy  bcglnniug  is  good,  thy 
latter  end  shall  greatly  increase."  So  he  addressed  himself 
to  Mercy,  and  said  unto  her,  ''And  what  moved  thee  to  come 
hither,  sweet  heart  ? '' 

Then  Mercy  blushed  and  trembled,  and  for  a  while  con- 
tinued silent. 

Then  said  he,  "Be  not  afraid,  only  believe,  and  speak  thy 
mind." 

So  she  began,  and  said,  "Truly,  sir,  my  want  of  experi- 
ence is  that  which- makes  me  covet  to  be  in  silence,  and  that 
also  that  fills  me  with  fears  of  coming  short  at  last.  I  can- 
not tell  of  visions  and  dreams,  as  my  friend  Christiana  can; 
nor  know  I  what  it  is  to  mourn  for  my  refusing  of  the  counsel 
of  those  that  were  good  relations." 

Inter.  What  was  it  then,  dear  heart,  that  hath  prevailed 
with  thee  to  do  as  thou  hast  done  ? 

Mercy.  Why,  when  our  friend  here  was  packing  up  to  be 
gone  from  our  town,  I  and  another  went  accidentally  to  see  her ; 
so  we  knocked  at  the  door  and  went  in.     When  we  were  ' 


204  MERCY'S   EXPERIENCE. 

within,  and  seeing  what  she  was  doing,  we  asked  her  what 
was  her  meaning.  She  said  she  was  sent  for  to  go  to  her 
husband  ;  and  then  she  up  and  told  us  how  she  had  seen  him 
in  a  dream,  dwelling  in  a  curious  place,  among  immortals, 
wearing  a  crown,  playing  upon  a  harp,  eating  and  dnnkiug 
at  his  Prince's  table,  and  singing  praises  to  him  for  bringing 
him  thither,  etc.  Now,  methought,  while  she  was  telling 
these  things  unto  us,  my  heart  burned  within  me ;  and  I  said 
in  my  heart,  "If  this  be  true,  I  will  leave  my  father  and  my 
mother,  and  the  land  of  ray  nativity,  and  will,  if  I  may,  go 
along  with  Christiana."  So  I  asked  her  further  of  the  truth 
of  these  things,  and  if  she  would  let  me  go  with  her;  for  I 
saw  now  that  there  was  no  dwelling,  but  with  the  danger  of 
ruin,  any  longer  in  our  town.  But  yet  I  came  away  with  a 
heavy  heart,  not  for  that  I  was  unwilling  to  come  away,  but 
for  that  so  many  of  my  relations  were  left  behind.  And  I  am 
come,  with  all  the  desire  of  my  heart,  and  will  go,  if  I  may, 
with  Christiana,  unto  her  husband  and  his  King. 

Inter.  Thy  setting  out  is  good,  for  thoU  hast  given  credit 
to  the  truth.  Thou  art  a  Ruth,  who  did,  for  the  love  that  she 
bare  to  Naomi,  and  to  the  Lord  her  God,  leave  father  and 
mother,  and  the  land  of  her  nativity,  to  come  out,  and  go 
with  a  people  that  she  knew  not  heretofore.  "The  Lord 
recompense  thy  work,  and  a  full  reward  be  given  thee  of  the 
Lord  God  of  Israel,  under  whose  wings  thou  art  come  to 
trust."     (Ruth  ii.  12.) 

Now  supper  was  ended,  and  preparation  was  made  for  bed  ; 
the  women  were  laid  singly  alone,  and  the  boys  by  themselves. 
Now  when  Mercy  was  in  bed,  she  could  not  sleep  for  joy,  for 
that  now  her  doubts  of  missing  at  last  were  removed  further 
from  her  than  ever  they  were  before.  So  she  lay  blessing 
and  ]3raising  God,  who  had  had  such  favour  for  her. 

In  the  morning  they  arose  with  the  sun,  and  prepared  them- 
selves for  their  departure;  but  the  Interpreter  would  have 
them  tarry  awhile,  "for,"  said  he,  "you  must  orderly  go  from 


s  a:n  ctific  ation.  205 

hence."  Tlien  said  he  to  the  damsel  that  first  opened  unto 
them,  *'Take  them,  and  have  them  into  the  garden  to  the 
bath,  and  there  wash  them,  and  make  them  clean  from  the 
soil  which  they  have  gathered  by  travelling."  Then  Inno- 
cent, the  damsel,  took  them,  and  had  them  into  the  garden, 
and  brought  them  to  the  bath;  so  she  told  them  that  there 
they  must  wash  and  be  clean,  for  so  her  master  would  have 
the  women  to  do  that  called  at  his  house  as  they  were  going 
on  pilgrimage.  They  then  went  in  and  washed,  yea,  they 
and  the  boys  and  all;  and  they  came  out  of  that  bath,  not 
only  sweet  and  clean,  but  also  much  enlivened  and  strength- 
ened in  their  joints.  So  when  they  came  in,  they  looked 
fairer  a  deal  than  when  they  went  out  to  the  washing. 

When  they  were  returned  out  of  the  garden,  from  the  bath, 
the  Interpreter  took  them  and  looked  upon  them,  and  said 
unto  them,  "Fair  as  the  moon."  Then  he  called  for  the  seal, 
wherewith  they  used  to  be  sealed  that  were  washed  in  his  bath. 
So  the  seal  was  brought,  and  he  set  his  mark  upon  them,  that 
they  might  be  known  in  the  places  whither  they  were  yet  to 
go.  Now  the  seal  was  the  contents  and  sum  of  the  passover 
which  the  children  of  Israel  did  eat  when  they  came  out  of 
the  land  of  Egypt,  and  the  mark  was  set  between  their  eyes. 
This  seal  greatly  added  to  their  beauty,  for  it  was  an  orna- 
ment to  their  faces.  (Ex.  xiii.  8-10.)  It  also  added  to  their 
gravity,  and  made  their  countenances  more  like  them  q| 
angels . 

Then  said  the  Interpreter  again  to  the  damsel  that  waited 
upon  these  women,  ' '  Go  into  the  vestry  and  fetch  out  gar- 
ments for  these  people ; "  so  she  went  and  fetched  out  white 
raiment,  and  laid  it  down  before  him;  so  he  commanded 
them  to  put  it  on.  "It  was  fine  linen,  white  and  clean." 
"When  the  women  were  thus  adorned,  they  seemed  to  be  a  ter- 
ror, one  to  the  other;  for  that  they  could  not  see  that  glory 
each  one  on  herself  which  they  could  sec  in  each  other.  Now, 
therefore,  they  began  to  esteem  each  other  better  than  them- 


206  THE   PILGRIMS   GO   ON   THEIR   WAY. 

selves.  *'  For  you  are  fairer  than  I  am, "  said  one ;  and,  ''  You 
are  more  comely  than  I  am,"  said  another.  The  children  also 
stood  amazed  to  see  into  what  fashion  they  were  brought. 

The  Interpreter  then  called  for  a  man-servant  of  his,  oHe 
Greatheart,  and  bid  him  take  sword,  and  hemlet,  and  shield; 
*'  And  take  these,  my  daughters,"  said  he,  *'  and  conduct  them 
to  the  house  called  Beautiful,  at  which  place  they  will  rest 
next."  So  he  took  his  weapons  and  went  before  them;  and 
the  Interpreter  said,  '*  God  speed."  Those  also  that  belonged 
to  the  family  sent  them  away  with  many  a  good  wish.  So 
they  went  on  their  way,  and  sung : 

"  This  place  has  been  our  second  stas^e; 
Here  we  have  lieard  and  seen 
Those  good  things  that,  from  age  to  age, 
To  others  hid  have  been. 

**  The  dung-hill  raker,  spider,  hen, 
The  chicken,  too,  to  me 
Hath  taught  a  lesson  ;  let  me  then 
Conformed  to  it  be. 

**  The  butcher,  garden,  and  the  field, 
T^ie  robin  and  his  bait, 
Also  the  rotten  tree  doth  yield 
Me  argument  of  weight. 

**  To  move  me  for  to  watch  and  pray, 
«*  To  strive  to  be  sincere  ; 

To  take  my  cross  up  day  by  day. 
And  serve  the  Lord  with  fear." 

Now  T  saw  in  my  dream  that  they  went  on,  and  Greatheart 
went  before  them:  so  they  went  and  came  to  the  place  where 
Christain's  burden  fell  off  his  back,  and  tumbled  into  a  sepul- 
chre. Here,  then,  they  made  a  pause ;  and  here,  also,  they 
blessed  God.  ''Now,"  said  Christiana,  "it  comes  to  my 
mind  what  was  said  to  us  at  the  gate,  to  wit,  that  we  should 
have  pardon  by  word  and  deed ;  by  word,  that  is,  by  the  prom- 
ise ;  by  deed,  to  wit,  in  the  way  it  was  obtained.  What  the  prom^ 


ON   BEING   JUSTIFIED   BY   CHRIST.  207 

ise  is,  of  that  I  know  something ;  but  what  it  is  to  have  par- 
don by  deed,  or  in  the  way  that  it  was  obtained,  Mr.  Great- 
heart,  I  suppose  you  know ;  wherefore,  if  you  please,  let  us 
hear  you  discourse  thereof." 

Greatheart.  Pardon  by  the  deed  done  is  pardon  obtained 
by  some  one  for  another  that  hath  need  thereof:  not  by  the 
person  pardoned,  but  in  the  way,  ^ith  another,  in  which  I 
have  obtained  it.  So  then,  to  speak  to  the  question  more  at 
large,  the  pardon  that  you,  and  Mercy,  and  these  boys  have 
attained  was  obtained  by  another,  to  wit,  by  Him  that  let  you 
in  at  the  gate;  and  he  hath  obtained  it  in  this  double  way. 
He  has  performed  righteousness  to  cover  you,  and  spilt  blood 
to  wash  you  in. 

Chris.  But  if  he  parts  with  his  righteousness  to  us,  what 
will  he  have  for  himself  ? 

Greatheart.  He  has  more  righteousness  than  you  have 
need  of,  or  than  he  needeth  himself. 

Chsis.  Pray  make  that  appear. 

Greatheart.  With  all  my  heart;  but  first  I  must  premise 
that  he  of  whom  we  are  now  about  to  speak  is  one  that  has 
not  his  fellow.  He  has  two  natures  in  one  person,  plain  to  be 
d'stinguished,  impossible  to  be  divided.  Unto  each  of  these 
natures  a  righteousness  belongeth,  and  each  righteousness  is 
essential  to  that  nature :  so  that  one  may  as  easily  cause  the 
nature  to  be  extinct,  as  to  separate  its  justice  or  righteousness 
from  it.  Of  these  righteousnesses,  therefore,  we  are  not 
made  partakers,  so  as  that  tliey,  or  any  of  them,  should  be 
put  upon  us,  that  we  might  be  made  just,  and  live  thereby. 
Besides  these,  there  is  a  righteousness  which  this  person  has, 
as  these  two  natures  are  joined  in  one;  and  this  is  not  the 
rigliteousness  of  the  Godhead,  as  distinguished  from  the  man- 
hood; nor  the  righeousness  of  the  manhood,  as  distinguished 
from  the  Godhead:  but  a  righteousness  which  standeth  in  tlie 
union  of  both  natures,  and  may  probably  be  called  tlic  right- 
eousness that  is  essential  to  his  being  prepared  of  God  to  the 


208  THE   RIGHTEOUSNESS   OF   CHRIST. 

capacity  of  the  mediatory  office  which  he  was  to  be  entrust- 
ed with.  If  lie  parts  with  his  first  righteousness,  he  parts 
with  his  Godhead;  if  he  parts  with  his  second  righteousness, 
lie  parts  with  tlie  purity  of  his  manhood ;  if  he  parts  with  his 
third,  he  parts  with  that  perfection  that  capacitates  him  to 
the  office  of  mediation.  He  lias,  therefore,  another  right- 
eousness, which  standeth*  in  performance,  or  obedience  to  a 
revealed  will ;  and  that  is  it  that  he  puts  upon  sinners,  and 
that  by  which  their  sins  are  covered.  Wherefore  he  saith, 
*' As  by  one  man's  disobedicQce  many  were  made  sinners,  so 
by  the  obedience  of  one  shall  many  be  made  righteous.'' 
(Rom.  V.  19  ) 

Ciiras.  But  arc  the  other  righteousnesses  of  no  use  to  us  ? 

Gkeatheart.  Yes ;  for  though  they  are  essential  to  his  na- 
tures and  office,  and  so  cannot  be  communicated  unto  another, 
yet  it  is  by  virtue  of  them  that  the  righteousness  that  justifies 
is,  for  that  purpose,  efficacious.  The  righteousness  of  his 
Godhead  giveth  virtue  to  his  obedience ;  the  righteousness  of 
his  manhood  giveth  capability  to  his  obedience  to  justify;  and 
the  righteousness  that  standeth  in  the  union  of  these  two  an- 
tures  to  his  office  giveth  authority  to  that  righteousness  to  do 
the  work  for  which  it  is  ordained. 

So,  then,  here  is  a  righteousness  that  Christ,  as  God,  has  no 
need  for,  for  he  is  God  without  it ;  here  is  a  righteousness  that 
Christ,  as  man,  has  no  need  of  to  make  him  so,  for  he  is  per- 
fect man  without  it ;  again,  here  is  a  righteousness  that  Christ, 
as  God-man,  has  no  need  of,  for  he  is  perfectly  so  without  it. 
Here,  then,  is  a  righteousness  that  Christ,  as  God,  as  man,  as 
God-man,  has  no  need  of,  with  reference  to  himself,  and 
therefore  he  can  spare  it — a  justifying  righteousness,  that 
he  for  himself  wanteth  not,  and  therefore  he  giveth  it 
away;  hence  it  is  called  "the  gift  of  righteousness."  (Rom. 
v.  17.)  This  righteousness,  since  Christ  Jesus  the  Lord  has 
made  himself  under  the  law,  must  be  given  away;  for 
the    law  doth  not  only  bind  him  that  is  under  it  "to  do 


SHORT   TTIND — Page  211, 


THE   PRICE   OF  PARDON.  209 

justly,"  but  to  use  charity.  Wherefore  he  must,  he  ought,  by 
the  law,  if  he  hath  two  coats,  to  give  oue  to  him  that  hath  none. 
Now  our  Lord,  indeed,  hath  two  coats,  one  for  himself,  and 
one  to  spare ;  wherefore  he  freely  bestows  one  upon  those  that 
have  none.  And  thus,  Christiana  and  Mercy,  and  the  rest  of  you 
that  are  here,  doth  your  pardon  come  by  deed,  or  by  the 
work  of  another  man.  Your  Lord  Christ  is  he  that  has 
worked,  and  has  given  away  what  he  wrought  for  the  next 
poor  beggar  he  meets. 

But,  again,  in  order  to  pardon  by  deed,  there  must  be  some- 
thing paid  to  God  as  a  price,  as  well  as  something  prepared 
to  cover  us  withal.  Sin  has  delivered  us  up  to  the  just  curse 
of  a  righteous  law;  now  from  this  curse  we  must  be  justified 
by  way  of  redemption,  a  price  being  paid  for  the  harms  we 
have  done  (Rom.  iv.  25);  and  this  is  by  the  blood  of  your 
Lord,  who  came  and  stood  in  your  place  and  stead,  and  died 
your  death  for  transgressions.  (Gal.  iii.  13.)  Thus  has  he 
ransomed  you  from  your  transgressions  by  blood,  and  covered 
your  polluted  and  deformed  souls  with  righteousness:  for  the 
sake  of  which,  God  passeth  by  you,  and  will  not  hurt  you 
when  he  comes  to  judge  the  world. 

Chris.  This  is  brave !  Now  I  see  there  was  something  to 
be  learned  by  our  being  pardoned  by  word  and  deed.  Good 
Mercy,  let  us  labour  to  keep  this  in  mind ;  and,  my  children, 
do  you  remember  it  also.  But,  sir,  was  not  this  it  that  made 
my  good  Christian's  burden  fall  from  off  his  shoulder,  and 
that  made  him  give  three  leaps  for  joy  ? 

Greatheart.  Yes,  it  was  the  belief  of  this  that  cut  those 
strings  that  could  not  be  cut  by  other  means;  and  it  was  to 
give  him  a  proof  of  the  virtue  of  this  that  he  was  suffered  to 
carry  his  burden  to  the  cross. 

Chris.  I  thought  so;  for  though  my  heart  was  lightful  and 
joyous  before,  yet  it  is  ten  times  more  lightsome  and  joyous 
now.  And  I  am  persuaded  by  wh^t  I  have  felt,  though  I  have 
felt  but  little  as  yet,  that  if  the  most  burdened  man  in  the 


210       SIMPLE,  SLOTH,  AND  PRESUMPTION  HANGED. 

world  was  here,  and  did  see  and  believe  as  I  now  do,  it  would 
make  bis  heart  the  more  merry  and  blithe. 

Greatheart.  There  is  not  only  comfort,  and  the  ease  of  a 
burden,  brought  to  us  by  the  sight  and  consideration  of  these, 
but  an  endeared  affection  begot  in  us  by  it ;  for  who  can,  if 
he  doth  but  once  think  that  pardon  comes,  not  only  by  prom- 
ise, but  thus,  but  be  affected  by  the  way  and  means  of  his 
redemption,  and  so  with  the  man  that  hath  wrought  it  for 
him? 

Chris.  True ;  methinks  it  makes  nay  heart  bleed  to  think 
that  he  should  bleed  for  me.  O  thou  loving  One!  thou  bless- 
ed One!  Thou  deservest  to  have  me;  thou  hast  bought  me. 
Thou  deservest  to  have  me  all;  thou  hast  paid  forme  ten 
thousand  times  more  than  I  am  worth !  No  marvel  that  this 
made  the  water  stand  in  my  husband's  eyes,  and  that  it  made 
him  trudge  so  nimbly  on.  I  am  persuaded  he  wished  me  with 
him ;  but,  vile  wretch  that  I  was,  I  let  him  come  alone.  Oh, 
Mercy,  that  thy  father  and  mother  were  here ;  yea,  and  Mrs. 
Timorous  also ;  nay,  I  wish  now  with  all  my  heart  that  here 
was  Madam  Wanton  too.  Surely,  surely,  their  hearts  would 
be  affected;  nor  could  the  fear  of  the  one,  nor  the  powerful 
lusts  of  the  other,  prevail  with  them  to  go  home  again,  and 
to  refuse  to  become  good  pilgrims. 

Greatheart.  You  speak  now  in  the  warmth  of  your  affec- 
tions ;  will  it,  think  you,  be  always  thus  with  you  ?  Besides, 
tins  is  not  communicated  to  every  one,  not  to  every  one  that 
did  see  your  Jesus  bleed.  There  were  that  stood  by,  and  that 
saw  the  blood  run  from  his  heart  to  the  ground,  and  yet  vrere 
so  far  off  this,  that,  instead  of  lamenting,  they  laughed  at 
him;  and,  instead  of  becoming  his  disciples,  did  harden  their 
hearts  against  him.  So  that  all  that  you  have,  my  daughters, 
you  have  by  a  peculiar  impression  made  by  a  divine  coi^tem- 
plating  upon  what  I  have  spoken  to  you.  Remember  that  it 
was  told  you,  that  the  hen,  by  her  common  call,  gives  no 
meat  to  her  chickens.  This  you  have,  therefore,  by  a  special 
grace. 


THEIR   CRIMES.  211 

Now  I  saw  still  in  my  dream,  that  tliey  went  on  until  they 
were  come  to  the  place  that  Simple,  and  Sloth,  and  Presump- 
tion lay  and  slept  in,  when  Christian  went  by  on  pilgrimage, 
and  behold,  they  were  hanged  up  in  irons,  a  little  way  oli  on 
the  other  side. 

Then  said  Mercy  to  him  that  was  their  guide  and  conductor, 
"What  are  those  three  men  ?  and  for  what  are  they  hanged 
there  ? " 

Greatheart.  These  three  men  were  men  of  very  bad  quali- 
ties. They  had  no  mind  to  be  pilgrims  themselves,  and  v*^ho- 
soever  they  could  they  hindered.  They  were  for  sloth  and 
folly  themselves,  and  wlioever  they  could  persuade  with,  they 
made  so  too;  and,  withal,  taught  them  to  presume  that  they 
should  do  well  ut  last.  They  were  asleep  when  Christian 
went  by;  and  now  you  go  by,  they  are  hanged. 

Mercy.  But  could  they  persuade  any  to  be  of  their  opinion? 

Greatheart.  Yes;  they  turned  several  out  of  the  way. 
There  was  Slow-pace,  that  they  persuaded  to  do  as  they. 
They  also  prevailed  with  one  Short-wind,  with  one  No-heart, 
with  one  Lingcr-nfter-iust,  and  with  one  Sleepy-head,  and 
with  a  young  woman,  her  name  was  Dull,  to  turn  out  of  the 
way,  and  become  as  they.  Besides,  they  brought  up  an  ill 
report  of  your  Lord,  persuading  others  that  he  was  a  task- 
master. They  also  brought  up  an  evil  report  of  the  good 
land,  saying  it  was  not  half  so  good  as  some  pretended  it 
was.  They  also  began  to  vilify  his  servants,  and  to  count  the 
very  best  of  them  meddlesome,  troublesome  busy-bodies. 
Further,  they  would  call  the  bread  of  God  husks;  the  com- 
forts of  his  children  fancies ;  the  travel  and  labour  of  pilgrims 
things  to  no  purpose. 

"Nay,"  said  Christiana,  "if  they  were  such,  they  shall 
never  be  bewailed  by  me.  They  have  bat  what  they  deserve ; 
and  I  think  it  is  well  that  they  hang  so  near  the  highway, 
that  others  may  see  and  take  warning.  But  had  it  not  been 
well  if  their  crimes  had  been  engraven  on  some  plate  of  iron 


212  MERCY'S   SONG. 

or  brass,  and  left  here,  even  Tvhere  tliey  did  their  mischiefs, 
for  a  caution  to  other  bad  men  ? " 

Greatheart.  So  it  is,  as  you  well  may  perceive,  if  you  will 
go  a  little  to  the  wall. 

Mercy.  No,  no;  let  them  hang,  and  their  names  rot,  and 
their  crimes  live  for  ever  against  them.  I  think  it  a  high 
favour  that  they  were  hanged  before  we  came  hitlier;  who 
knows  else  what  they  might  have  done  to  such  poor  women 
as  we  are  ? 

Then  she  turned  it  into  a  song,  saying : 

*'  Now  then,  you  three,  hang  there,  and  be  a  sign 
To  all  that  shall  against  the  truth  combine. 
And  let  him  that  comes  after  fear  this  end. 
If  unto  pilgrims  he  be  not  a  friend. 
And  thou,  my  soul,  of  all  such  men  beware, 
That  unto  holiness  opposers  are." 

Thus  they  went  on,  till  they  came  at  the  foot  of  the  Hill 
Difficulty,  where  again  their  good  friend,  Mr.  Greatheart, 
took  an  occasion  to  tell  them  of  what  happened  there  when 
Christian  himself  went  by.  So  he  had  them  first  to  the  spring. 
"Lo,"  said  he,  "this  is  the  spring  that  Christian  drank  of, 
before  he  went  up  this  hill;  and  then  it  was  clear  and  good, 
but  now  it  is  dirty  with  the  feet  of  some  that  are  not  desirous 
that  pilgrims  here  shouhl  quench  their  thirst."  (Ezek.  xxxiv. 
18.)  Thereat  Mercy  said,  "And  why  so  envious,  trow?" 
"But,"  said  their  guide,  "it  will  do,  if  taken  up  and  put 
into  a  vessel  that  is  sweet  and  good ;  for  then  the  dirt  will 
sink  to  the  bottom,  and  the  water  will  come  out  by  itself  more 
clear."  Thus,  therefore,  Christiana  and  her  companions 
were  obliged  to  do.  They  took  it  up,  and  put  it  into  an 
earthern  pot,  and  so  let  it  stand  till  the  dirt  w^as  gone  to  the 
bottom,  and  then  they  drank  thereof. 

Next,  he  showed  them  the  two  by-ways  that  were  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill,  where  Formality  and  Hypocrisy  lost  them- 
selves.    "And,  "said  he,  "  these  are  dangerous  paths.     Two 


THE   PRINCE'S   aRBOUR.  213 

were  here  cast  away  when  Christian  came  by ;  and  although, 
as  you  see,  these  ways  are  since  stopped  up  with  chains, 
posts,  and  a  ditch,  yet  there  are  that  will  choose  to  adventure 
here,'  rather  than  take  the  pains  to  go  up  this  hill." 

Chris.  ''The  way  of  transgressors  is  hard."  (Prov.  xiii. 
15.)  It  is  a  wonder  that  they  can  get  into  those  ways  without 
danger  of  breaking  their  necks. 

Greatheart.  They  will  venture.  Yea,  if  at  any  time  any 
of  the  King's  servants  do  happen  to  see  them,  and  do  call 
unto  them,  and  tell  them  that  they  are  in  the  wrong  ways, 
and  do  bid  them  beware  the  danger,  then  they  will  railingly 
return  them  ^answer,  and  say,  "As  for  the  word  that  thou 
hast  spoken  unto  us  in  the  name  of  the  Lord,  we  will  not 
hearken  unto  thee ;  l)ut  we  will  certainly  do  whatsoever  thing 
gocth  forth  out  of  our  own  mouth,"  6tc.  (Jer.  xliv.  16,  17.) 
Nay,  if  you  look  a  little  furtlier,  you  shall  see  that  these  ways 
arc  made  cautionary  enough,  not  only  by  these  posts,  and 
ditch,  and  chain,  but  also  by  being  hedged  up;  yet  they  will 
choose  to  go  there. 

Chris.  They  arc  idle;  they  love  not  to  take  pains;  up-hill 
way  is  unpleasant  to  them.  So  it  is  fulfilled  unto  them  as  it 
is  written,  "The  way  of  the  slothful  man  is  as  an  hedge  of 
thorns."  (Prov.  xv.  19.)  Yea,  tjiey  will  rather  choose  to 
walk  upon  a  snare  than  to  go  up  this  hill,  and  the  rest  of  this 
way  to  the  city. 

Then  they  set  forward,  and  began  to  go  up  the  hill,  and  up 
the  hill  they  went ;  but  before  they  got  to  the  top,  Christiana 
began  to  pant;  and  said,  "I  dare  say  this  is  a  breathing  hill. 
No  marvel  if  they  that  love  their  ease  more  than  their  souls 
choose  to  themselves  a  smoother  way."  Then  said  Mercy,  "I 
must  sit  down;"  also  the  least  of  the  children  began  to  cry. 
"Come,  come,"  said  Greatheart,  "sit  not  down  here,  for  a 
little  above  is  the  Prince's  arbour."  Then  he  took  the  little 
boy  by  the  hand,  and  led  him  up  thereto. 

When  they  were  come  to  the  arbour,  they  were  very  willing 


214  WHAT   THE   LITTLE  BOY  THOUGHT. 

to  sit  down,  for  they  were  all  in  a  pelting  heat.  Then  said 
Mercy,  "  How  sweet  is  rest  to  them  that  labour!  (Matt,  xi, 
28.)  And  how  good  is  the  Prince  of  pilgrims  to  provide  such 
resting-places  for  them!  Of  this  arbour  I  have  heard  much; 
but  I  never  saw  it  before.  But  here  let  us  beware  of  sleeping; 
for, as  1  have  heard,  that  cost  poor  Christian  dear." 

Then  said  Mr.  Greatheart  to  the  little  ones,  *'  Come,  my  pretty 
boys,  how  do  you  do  ?  What  think  you  now  of  going  on  pil- 
grimage ?  "  "  Sir,"  said  the  least,  *'  I  was  almost  beat  out  of 
heart;  but  I  t.iank  you  for  lending  me  a  hand  in  my  need. 
And  I  remember  now  what  my  mother  has  told  me,  namely, 
that  the  way  to  heaven  is  as  up  a  ladder,  a»nd  the  way  to  hell 
is  as  down  a  hill.  Bat  I  had  rather  go  up  the  ladder  to  life, 
than  down  the  hill  to  death." 

Then  said  Mercy,  ""  But  the  proverb  is.  To  go  down  the  hill 
is  easy."  But  James  said  (for  that  was  his  name),  -''  The  day 
is  coming  when,  in  my  opinion,  going  down  hill  will  be  the 
hardest  of  all."  ''  'Tis  a  good  boy,"  said  his  master,  'Hhou 
hast  given  her  aright  answer."  Then  Mercy  smiled;  but  the 
little  boy  did  blush. 

''Come,"  said  Christiana,  "will  you  eat  a  bit,  a  little  to 
sweeten  your  mouths,  while  you  sit  here  to  rest  your  legs  ? 
For  I  have  a  piece  of  pomegranate,  which  Mr.  Interpreter  put 
in  my  hand  just  when  I  came  out  of  his  doors.  He  gave  me 
also  a  piece  of  honeycomb,  and  a  little  bottle  of  spirits."  "I 
thought  he  gave  you  something,"  said  Mercy,  "because  he 
called  you  aside."  "Yes,  so  he  did,"  said  the  other.  "But, 
Mercy,  it  shall  still  be,  as  I  said  it  should,  when  at  first  we 
came  from  home,  thou  shalt  be  a  sharer  in  all  the  good  that  I 
have,  because  thou  so  willingly  didst  become  my  companion." 
Then  she  gave  to  them,  and  they  did  eat,  both  Mercy  and  the 
boys.  "And,"  said  Christiana  to  Mr.  Greatheart,  "sir,  will 
you  do  as  we  ?"  But  he  answered,  "You  are  going  on  pil- 
grimage, and  presently  I  shall  return.  Much  good  may  Avhat 
you  have  do  y^u.     At  home,  J  eat  the  same  every  day."    Now 


THE  FALSE  TONGUE.  215 

w^lien  they  had  eaten  and  drank,  and  had  chatted  away  a  little 
longer,  their  guide  said  to  them,  **The  day  wears  away;  if 
you  think  good,  let  us  prepare  to  be  going."  So  they  got  up 
to  go,  and  the  little  boys  went  before.  But  Christiana  forgot 
to  take  her  bottle  of  spirits  with  her;  so  she  sent  her  little  boy 
hack  to  fetch  it.  Then  said  M-ercy,  ''I  think  this  is  a;^losing 
place.  Here  Christian  lost  his  roll;  and  here  Christiana  left 
lier  bottle  behind  her.  Sir,  what  is  the  cause  of  this  ?  "  So 
their  gujde  made  answer,  and  said,  ''The  cause  is  sleep  or 
forgetfulness.  Some  sleep  when  they  should  keep  awake; 
and  some  forget  when  they  should  remember;  and  this  is  the 
very  cause  why  often,  at  the  resting-places,  some  pilgrims  in 
somethings  came  off  losers.  Pilgrims  should  watch,  and  re- 
member what  they  have  already  received  under  their  greatest 
enjoyments;  but  for  want  of  doing  so  ofttimes  their  rejoicing 
ends  in  tears,  and  their  sunshine  in  a  cloud.  Witness  the 
story  of  Christian  at  this  place." 

When  they  were  come  to  the  place  where  Mistrust  and  Tim- 
orous met  Christian  to  persuade  him  to  go  back  for  fear  of  the 
lions,  they  perceived  as  it  were  a  stage,  and  before  it,  towards 
the  road,  a  broad  plate,  with  a  copy  of  verses  written  there- 
on, and  underneath,  the' reason  of  raising  up  of  that  stage  in 
that  place,  rendered.     The  verses  were  these : 

"  Let  him  who  sees  this  stage  take  heed 
Unto  liis  heart  and  tongue; 
Lest  if  lie  do  not,  here  he  speed 
As  some  have  long  agone.'' 

jfhe  words  underneath  the  verses  were,  ''This  stage  was  built 
to  punish  such  upon  who,  through  timorousness  or  mistrust, 
shall  be  afraid  to  go  further  on  pilgrimage;  also  on  this  btage 
both  Mistrust  and  Timorous  were  burned  through  the  tongue 
with  a  hot  iron,  for  endeavouring  to  hinder  Christian  in  his 
journey." 
Then  said  Mercy,  '*  This  is  much  like  to  the  saying  of  the 


216  OPPOSITION   TO   GIANT   GRIM. 

Beloved,  *  What  shall  be  given  unto  thee?  or  what  shall  be 
done  unto  thee,  thou  false  tongue  ?  Sharp  arrows  of  the 
mighty,  with  coals  of  juniper.'  "     (Psa.  cxx.  3,  4.) 

So  they  went  on,  till  they  came  within  sight  of  the  lions. 
Now  Mr.  Greatheart  was  a  strong  man,  so  he  was  not  afraid 
of  a  lion ;  but  yet  when  they  were  come  up  to  the  place  where 
the  lions  were,  the  boys  that  went  before  were  glad  to  cringe 
behind,  for  they  were  afraid  of  the  lions ;  so  they  stepped 
back,  and  went  behind.  At  this  their  guide  smiled,  j^d  said, 
*'How  now,  my  boys,  do  you  love  to  go  before  when  no  dan- 
ger doth  approach,  and  love  to  come  behind  so  soon  as  the 
lions  appear  ? " 

Now  as  they  went  up,  Mr.  Greatheart  drew  his  sword,  with 
intent  to  make  a  way  for  the  pilgrims,  in  spite  of  the  lions. 
Tiien  there  appeared  one  that  it  seems  had  taken  upon  him  to 
back  the  lions;  and  he  said  to  the  pilgrims'  guide,  ''  What  is 
the  cause  of  your  coming  nither  ? "  Now  the  name  of  that 
man  vfas  Grim,  or  Bloody-man,  because  of  his  slaying  of  pil- 
grims, and  he  was  of  the  race  of  giants. 

Then  said  the  pilgrims'  guide,  "These  women  and  children 
are  going  on  pilgrimage;  and  this  is  the  way  they  must  go, 
and  go  it  they  shall,  in  spite  of  thee  and  the  lions." 

Grim.  This  is  not  their  way,  neither  shall  they  go  therein. 
I  am  come  forth  to  withstand  them,  and  to  that  end  will  back 
the  lions. 

Now  to  say  truth,  by  reason  of  the  fierceness  of  the  lions, 
and  of  the  grim  carriage  of  him  that  did  back  them,  this  way 
had  of  late  lain  much  unoccupied,  and  was  almost  ail  grown 
over  with  grass. 

Then  said  Christiana,  *' Though  the  highways  have  been 
unoccupied  heretofore,  and  though  the  travellers  have  been 
made  in  times  past  to  walk  through  by-paths,  it  must  not  be 
so  now  I  am  risen.  Now,  'I  am  risen  a  mother  in  Israel.'  " 
(Judges  V.  6,  7,) 

Then  he  (Grim)  swore  by  the  lions  but  it  should ;  and  there* 


PASSING   THE   LIONS.  217 

fore  bid  them  turn  aside,  for  they  should  not  have  passage 
there. 

But  their  guide  made  first  his  approach  unto  Grim,  and 
laid  so  heavily  at  him  with  his  sword,  that  he  forced  him  to 
a  retreat. 

Then  said  he  that  attempted  to  back  the  lions,  '^  Will  you 
slay  me  upon  my  own  ground  ?  " 

Greatiieart.  It  is  the  King's  highway  that  we  arc  in,  and 
in  his  way  it  is  that  thou  hast  placed  thy  lions;  but  these 
women  and  these  children,  though  weak,  shall  hold  on  their 
way  in  spite  of  thy  lions.  And  with  that  he  gave  him  again 
a  downright  blow,  and  brought  him  upon  his  knees.  With 
this  blow  he  also  broke  his  helmet,  and  with  the  next  he  cut 
oil'  an  arm.  Then  did  the  giant  roar  so  hideously  that  his 
voice  frighted  the  w^omen,  and  yet  they  were  glad  to  see 
him  lie  sprawling  upon  the  ground.  Now  the  lions  were 
chained,  and  so  of  themselves  could  do  nothing.  Wherefore, 
when  old  Grim,  that  intended  to  back  them,  was  dead,  Mr. 
Grcathcart  said  to  the  pilgrims,  "  Come  now,  and  follow  me, 
and  no  hurt  shall  happen  to  you  from  the  lions."  They  there- 
fore went  on,  but  the  women  trembled  as  they  passed  by 
them ;  the  boys  also  looked  as  if  they  would  die ;  but  they  all 
got  by  without  further  hurt. 

Now  then  they  were  within  sight  of  the  Porter's  lodge,  and 
they  soon  came  up  unto  it;  but  they  made  more  haste  after 
this  to  go  thither,  because  it  is  dangerous  travelling  there  in 
the  night.  So  when  they  were  come  to  the  gate,  the  guide 
knocked,  and  the  Porter  cried,  "Who  is  there?"  But  as 
soon  as  the  guide  had  said,  "It  is  I,"  he  knew  his  voice,  and 
came  down  (for  the  guide  had  oft  before  that  come  thither  as 
a  conductor  of  pilgrims).  When  he  was  come  down,  he 
opened  the  gate,  and  seeing  the  guide  standing  just  before  it 
(for  he  saw  not  the  women,  for  they  were  behind  him),  he  said 
unto  him,  "How  now,  Mr.  Greatheart,  what  is  your  business 
here  so  late  to-night  ?  "     "I have  brought,"  said  he,    "some 


218  THE   PORTER'S   LODGE. 

pilgrims  hither,  where,  by  my  Lord's  commandment^  tiicy 
mast  lodge;  I  had  been  here  some  time  ago,  had  I  not  been 
op|30sed  by  the  giant  that  did  use  to  back  the  lions.  But  I, 
after  a  long  and  tedious  combat  with  him,  have  cut  him  off, 
and  have  brought  the  piigrims  hither  in  safety." 

Porter.  Will  you  not  go  in,  and  stay  till  morning  ? 

Greatheart.  No,  I  will  return  to  my  Lord  to-night. 

Chris.  Oh,  sir,  I  know  not  how  to  be  willing  you  should 
leave  us  in  our  pilgnmage ;  you  have  been  so  faithful  and  so 
loving  to  us,  you  bave  fought  so  stoutly  for  us,  you  have  been 
so  hearty  in  counselling  of  us,  that  I  shall  never  forget  your 
favour  towards  us. 

Then  said  Mercy,  ''Oh,  that  we  might  have  thy  company 
to  our  journey's  end !  How  can  such  poor  women  as  we  hold 
out  in  a  way  so  full  of  troubles  as  this  way  is,  without  a  friend 
and  defender?" 

Then  said  James,  the  youngest  of  the  boys,  ''Pray,  sir,  be 
persuaded  to  go  with  us,  and  help  us,  because  we  are  so  weak, 
and  the  way  so  dangerous  as  it  is." 

Greatheart.  I  am  at  my  Lord's  commandment:  if  he  shall 
allot  me  to  be  your  guide  quite  through,  I  will  willingly  wait 
upon  you.  But  here  you  failed  at  first ;  for,  when  he  bid  me 
come  thus  far  with  you,  then  you  should  have  begged  me  of  him 
to  have  gone  quite  through  with  you,  and  he  would  have  grant- 
ed your  request.  However,  at  present  I  must  withdraw ;  and 
so,  good  Christiana,  Mercy,  and  my  brave  children,  adieu. 

Then  the  Porter,  Mr.  Watchful,  asked  Christiana  of  her 
country  and  of  her  kindred;  and  she  said,  "I  came  from  the 
City  of  Destruction ;  I  am  a  widow  woman,  and  my  husband 
is  dead ;  his  name  was  Christian  the  Pilgrim."  "How  !  "  said 
the  Porter,  "  was  he  your  husband  ?  "  "  Yes,"  said  she,  "and 
these  are  his  children ;  and  this  (pointing  to  Mercy)  is  one  of 
my  townswomen." 

Then  the  Porter  rang  his  bell,  as  at  such  times  he  is  wont, 
and  there  came  to  the  door  one  of  the  damsels  whose  name 


THE   PILGRIMS   DESIRE   REST.  219 

was  Humble-miiid;  and  to  her  the  Porter  said,  "  Go  teil  it 
within,  that  Christiana,  the  wife  of  Christian,  and  her  chil- 
dien,  are  come  hither  on  pilgrimage."  She  went  in,  there- 
fore, and  told  it.  But  oh,  what  noise  for  gladness  was  there 
within,  when  the  damsel  did  but  drop  that  word  out  of  her 
mouth ! 

So  they  came  with  haste  to  the  Porter;  for  Christiana  stood 
still  at  the  door.  Then  some  of  the  most  grave  said  unto  her, 
"Come  in,  Christiana;  come  in,  thou  wife  of  tliat  good  man; 
come  hi,  thou  blessed  woman ;  come  in,  with  all  that  are  witli 
thee."  So  she  went  in,  and  they  followed  her  that  were  her 
children  and  her  companions.  Now  when  they  were  gone  in, 
they  were  had  into  a  very  large  room,  where  they  were  bidden 
1?o  sit  down;  so  they  sat  down,  and  the  chief  of  the  house 
was  called  in  to  see  and  welcome  the  guests.  Then  they  came 
in,  and,  understanding  who  they  were,  did  salute  each  other 
with  a  kiss,  and  said,  "  Welcome,  ye  vessels  of  the  grace  of 
God  ;  welcome  to  us  your  friends." 

Now  because  it  was  somewhat  late,  and  because  the  pil- 
grims were  weaiy  with  their  journey,  and  also  made  faint 
with  the  sight  of  the  fight  and  of  the  terrible  lions,  therefore 
they  desired,  as  soon  as  might  be,  to  prepare  to  go  to  rest. 
"Nay,"  said  those  of  the  family,  "refresh  yourselves  first 
with  a  morsel  of  meat ; "  for  they  had  prepared  for  them  a 
lamb,  with  the  accustomed  sauce  belonging  thereto  (Ex.  xii. 
21-28;  John  i.  29);  for  the  Porter  liad  heard  before  of  their 
coming,  and  had  told  it  to  them  within.  So  when  they  had 
supped,  and  ended  their  prayer  with  a  psalm,  they  desired 
they  might  go  to  rest.  "But  let  us,"  said  Christiana,  "if 
we  may  be  so  bold  as  to  choose,  be  in  that  chamber  that  was 
my  husband's  when  he  was  here."  So  they  had  them  up 
thither,  and  they  lay  all  in  a  room.  *  When  they  were  at  rest, 
Christiana  and  Mercy  entered  into  discourse  about  things  that 

were  convenient.  

*  See  page  54. 


220  MERCY'S   DREAM. 

Chris.  Little  did  I  think  once,  that  when  my  husband  went 
on  pilgrimage,  I  should  ever  have  followed. 

Mercy.  And  you  as  little  thought  of  lying  in  his  bed,  and 
in  his  chamber,  to  rest,  as  you  do  now. 

Chris.  And  much  less  did  I  ever  think  of  seeing  his  face 
with  comfort,  and  of  worshipping  the  Lord  the  King  witU 
him,  and  yet  now  I  believe  I  shall. 

Mercy.  Hark !     Don't  you  hear  a  noise  ? 

Chris.  Yes;  it  is,  as  I  believe,  a  noise  of  music,  for  joy 
that  we  are  here. 

Mercy.  Wonderful!  Music  in  the  house,  music  in  the 
heart,  and  music  also  in  heaven,  for  joy  that  we  are  here ! 

Thus  they  talked  a  while,  and  then  betook  themselves  to 
sleep.  So  in  the  morning,  when  these  were  awake,  Christiana 
said  to  Mercy : 

"What  was  the  matter  that  you  did  laugh  in  your  sleep  to- 
night ?     I  suppose  you  was  in  a  dream." 

Mercy.  So  I  was,  and  a  sweet  dream  it  was ;  but  are  you 
sure  I  laughed  ? 

Chris.  Yes,  you  laughed  heartily ;  but  prithee,  Mercy,  tell 
me  thy  dream. 

Mercy.  I  was  a-d reamed  that  I  sat  all  alone  in  a  solitary 
place,  and  was  bemoaning  of  the  hasdness  of  my  heart.  Now 
I  had  not  sat  there  long,  but  methought  many  were  gathered 
about  me,  to  see  me  and  to  hear  what  it  was  that  I  said.  So 
they  hearkened,  and  I  went  on  bemoaning  the  hardness  of 
my  heart.  At  this,  some  of  them  laughed  at  me,  some  called 
me  a  fool,  and  some  began  to  thrust  me  about.  With  that, 
methought  I  looked  up,  and  saw  One  coming  with  wings  to- 
wards me.  So  he  came  directly  to  me,  and  said,  "Mercy, 
what  aileth  thee  ? "  Now  when  he  had  heard  me  make  my 
complaint,  he  said,  "Peace  be  to  thee."  He  also  wiped  mine 
eyes  with  his  handkerchief,  and  clad  me  in  silver  and  gold. 
He  put  a  chain  about  my  neck,  and  ear-rings  in  my  ears,  and 
a  beautiful  crown  upon  my  head.     (Ezek.  xvi.  8-11.)     Then 


MERCY'S   DREAM.  221 

he  took  me  by  the  hand,  and  said,  *' Mercy,  come  after  me.'' 
So  he  went  up,  and  I  followed,  till  we  came  to  a  golden  gate. 
Then  he  knocked ;  and  when  they  within  had  opened,  the 
man  went  in,  and  I  followed  him  up  to  a  throne,  upon  which 
One  sat,  and  he  said  to  me,  ''Welcome,  daughter."  The  place 
looked  bright  and  twinkling,  like  the  stars,  or  ratliei  like  the 
sun;  and  I  thought  that  I  saw  your  husband  thero.  So  I 
awoke  from  my  dream.     But  did  I  laugh  ? 

Cimis.  Laugh?  ay,  and  well  you  might,  to  see  yourself  so 
well.  For  yoa  must  give  me  leave  to  tell  you  that  I  believe  it 
was  a  good  dream ;  and  that,  as  you  have  begun  to  find  the 
first  part  true,  so  yon  shall  find  the  second  at  last.  *'Grod 
speakcth  once,  yea,  twice,  y^^ma/iperceivethitnot.  In  a  dream, 
in  a  vision  of  the  night,  when  deep  sleep  falleth  upon  men,  in 
slumbrings  upon  the  bed."  (Job  xxxiii.  14,  15.)  We  need 
not,  when  a-bed,  lie  awake  to  talk  with  God.  He  can  visit 
us  while  we  sleep,  and  cause  us  then  to  hear  his  voice.  Our 
heart  ofttimes  wakes  when  we  sleep;  and  God  can  speak  to 
that,  either  by  words,  by  proverbs,  by  signs  and  similitudes, 
as  well  as  if  one  was  awake. 

Mercy.  Well,  I  am  glad  of  my  dream ;  for  I  hope,  ere  long, 
to  see  it  fulfilled,  to  the  making  of  me  laugh  again. 

Chris.  T  think  it  is  now  high  time  to  rise,  and  to  know 
what  we  must  do. 

Mercy.  Pray,  if  they  invite  us  to  stay  a  while,  let  us  will- 
ingly accept  of  the  proffer.  I  am  the  willinger  to  stay  a  while 
here,  to  grow  better  acquainted  with  these  maids.  Methinks 
Prudence,  Piety,  and  Charity  have  very  comely  and  sober 
countenances. 

Cjiris.  W(3  shall  see  what  they  will  do. 

So  when  they  were  up  and  ready,  they  came  down,  and  they 
asked  one  another  of  their  rest,  and  if  it  was  comfortable  or 
not. 

''Very  good,"  said  Mercy;  "it  was  one  of  the  best  night's 
lodgings  that  ever  I  had  in  my  life." 


222  JAMES  AND  JOSEPH   CATECHISED. 

Then  said  Prudence  and  Piety,  **If  you  will  be  persuaded 
to  stay  here  a  while,  you  shall  have  what  the  house  will 
afford." 

*' Ay,  and  that  with  a  very  good  will,"  said  Charity.  So 
they  consented,  and  stayed  there  about  a  month  or  above,  and 
became  very  profitable  one  to  another.  And  because  Pru- 
dence would  see  how  Christiana  had  brought  up  her  children, 
she  asked  leave  of  her  to  catechise  them.  So  she  gave  her 
free  consent.  Then  she  began  at  the  youngest,  whose  name 
was  James. 

And  she  said,  ' '  Come,  James,  canst  thou  tell  me  who  made 
thee  ? " 

James.  God  the  Father,  God  the  Son,  and  God  the  Holy 
Ghost. 

Prud.  Good  boy.     And  canst  thou  tell  me  who  saves  thee  ? 

James.  God  the  Father,  God  the  Son,  and  God  the  Holy 
Ghost. 

Prud*  Good  boy  still.  But  how  doth  God  the  Father  save 
thee  ? 

James.  By  his  grace. 

Prud.  How  dotli  God  the  Son  save  thee  ? 

James.  By  his  righteousness,  death,  and  blood,  and  life. 

Prud.  And  how  doth  God  the  Holy  Ghost  save  thee  ? 

James.  By  his  illumination,  by  his  renovation,  and  by  his 
preservation. 

Tlicn  said  Prudence  to  Christiana,  "You  are  to  be  com- 
mended for  thus  bringing  up  your  children.  I  suppose  I  need 
not  ask  the  rest  these  questions,  since  the  youngest  of  them 
can  answer  them  so  well.  I  will  therefore  now  apply  myself 
to  the  next  youngest." 

Then  she  said,  "Come,  Joseph  (for  his  name  was  Joseph), 
will  you  let  me  catechise  you  ? " 

Joseph.  With  all  my  heart. 

Prud.     What  is  man  ? 

Joseph.  A  reasonable  creature,  so  made  by  God,  as  my 
brother  said. 


SAMUEL   AND  MATIHEW   CATECHISED.  223 

Prud.  What  is  supposed  by  this  word  "saved  "  ? 

Joseph.  That  man,  by  sin,  has  brought  himself  into  a  state 
of  captivity  and  misciy. 

Prud.  What  is  supposed  by  his  being  saved  by  the  Trinity  ? 

JosEPn.  That  sin  is  so  great  and  mighty  a  tyrant  that  none 
can  pull  us  out  of  its  clutches  but  God ;  and  that  God  is  so 
good  and  loving  to  man  as  to  pull  him  indeed  out-  of  this 
miserable  state. 

Prud.  What  is  God's  design  in  saving  of  poor  men  ? 

Joseph.  Tlie  glorifying  of  his  name,  of  his  grace  and  justice, 
etc.,  and  the  everlasting  liappiness  of  his  creature. 

Prud.  Who  are  they  that  must  be  saved  ? 

Joseph.  Those  that  accept  of  his  salvation. 

Prud.  Good  boy,  Joseph;  thy  mother  has  taught  thee  well, 
and  thou  hast  hearkened  to  what  she  hath  said  unto  thee. 

Then  said  Prudence  to  Samuel,  who  was  the  eldest  but  one, 
*'Come,  Samuel,  are  j^ou  willing  that  I  should  catechise  you 
also  ? " 

Samuel.  Yes,  'forsooth,  if  you  please. 

Prud.  What  is  heaven  ? 

Sam.  a  place  and  state  most  blessed,  because  God  dwelleth 
there. 

Prud.  What  is  hell  ! 

Sam.  a  place  and  state  most  woeful,  because  it  is  the 
dwelling-place  of  sin,  the  devil,  and  death. 

Prud.  Why  wouldst  thou  go  to  heaven  ? 

Sam.  That  I  may  see  God,  and  serve  him  without  weariness ; 
that  I  may  see  Christ,  and  love  him  everlastingly;  that  I  may 
have  that  fulness  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  mc  that  I  can  by  no 
means  here  enjoy. 

Prud.  A  very  good  boy  also,  and  one  that  has  learned  well. 

Then  she  addressed  herself  to  the  eldest,  whose  name  was 
Matthew;  and  she  said  to  htm,  "Come,  Matthew,  shall  I  also 
catechise  you  ? " 

Matthew.  With  a  very  good  will. 


224  PRUDENCE'S   ADVICE   TO  THE  BOYS. 

Prud.  I  ask,  then,  if  there  was  ever  anything  that  had  a 
being  antecedent  to,  or  before,  God. 

Matt.  No:  for  God  is  eternal;  nor  is  there  anything  ex- 
cepting himself  that  had  a  being  until  the  beginning  of  the 
first  day.  *'  For  in  six  days  the  Lord  made  heaven  and  earth, 
the  sea,  and  all  that  in  them  is." 

Prud.  What  do  you  think  of  the  Bible  ? 

Matt.  It  is  the  holy  Word  of  God. 

Prud.  Is  there  nothing  written  therein,  but  what  you  un- 
derstand ? 

Matt.  Yes ;  a  great  deal. 

Prud.  What  do  you  do  when  you  meet  with  such  places 
therein  that  yon  do  not  understand  ? 

Matt.  I  think  God  is  wiser  than  I.  I  pray  also  that  he  will 
please  to  let  me  know  all  therein  that  he  knows  will  be  for  my 
^ood. 

Prud.  How  believe  you  as  touching  the  resurrection  of  the 
dead  ? 

Matt.  I  believe  they  shall  rise,  the  sam6  that  was  buried; 
the  same  in  nature,  though  not  in  corruption.  And  I  believe 
this  upon  a  double  account:  first,  because  God  has  promised 
it;  secondly,  because  be  is  able  to  perform  it. 

Then  said  Prudence  to  the  boys,  "You  must  still  hearken 
to  your  mother,  for  she  can  learn  you  more.  You  must  also 
diligently  give  ear  to  what  good  talk  you  shall  hear  from 
others;  for,  for  your  sakes  do  they  speak  good  things.  Ob- 
serve, also,  and  that  with  carefulness,  what  the  heavens  and 
the  earth  do  teach  you ;  but  especially  be  much  in  the  medita- 
tion of  that  Book  that  was  the  cause  of  your  father's  becom- 
ing a  pilgrim.  I.  for  my  part,  my  children,  will  teach  you 
what  I  can  while  you  are  here,  and  shall  be  glad  if  you  will 
/ask  me  questions  that  tend  to  godly  edifying," 

Now,  by  that  these  pilgrims  ha*d  been  at  this  place  a  week, 
Mercy  liad  a  visitor  ihat  pretended  some  good-will  unto  her, 
and  his  name  was  Mr.  Brisk,  a  man  of  some  breeding,  and 


1  i. 


^JK 


^^1.^ 


.^^"^ 


'^^:d: 


MR.   BRISK  TAKEN  WITH  MERCY.  2^ 

that  pretended  to  religion ;  but  a  man  that  stuck  very  close  to 
the  world.  So  he  came  once  or  twice  or  more,  to  Mercy,  and 
offered  love  unto  her.  I^ow  Mercy  was  of  a  fair  countenance, 
and  therefore  the  more  alluring. 

Her  mind  also  was  to  be  always  busymg  herself  in  doing; 
for  when  she  had  nothing  to  do  for  herself,  she  would  be 
making  of  hose  and  garments  for  others,  and  would  bestow 
them  upon  them  that  had  need  And  Mr.  Brisk,  not  know- 
ing where  or  how  she  disposed  of  what  she  made,  seemed  to 
be  greatly  taken  for  that  he  found  her  never  idle.  *'Iwill 
warrant  her  a  good  housewife,"  quoth  he  to  himself. 

Mercy  then  revealed  the  business  to  the  maidens  that  were 
of  the  house,  and  inquired  of  them  concerning  him,  for  they 
did  know  him  better  than  she.  So  they  told  her  that  he  was 
a  very  busy  young  man,  and  one  that  pretended  to  religion; 
but  was,  as  they  feared,  a  stranger  to  the  power  of  that  which 
was  good.  "Nay,  then,"  said  Mercy,  "I  will  look  no  more 
on  him;  for  I  purpose  never  to  have  a  clog  to  my  soul." 

Prudence  tlien  replied  that  there  needed  no  great  matter  of 
discouragement  to  be  given  to  him ;  her  continuing  so  as  she 
had  begun  to  do  for  the  poor  would  quickly  cool  his  courage. 

So  the  next  time  he  comes,  he  finds  her  at  her  old  work, 
a-making  of  things  for  the  poor.  Then  said  he,  "What!  al- 
ways at  it?"  ''Yes,','  said  she,  ''either  for  myself  or  for 
others."  "And  what  canst  thou  earn  a-day  ? "  quoth  he.  "I 
do  these  things,"  said  she, "  that  I  may  be  rich  in  good  works, 
laying  up  in  store  a  good  foundation  against  the  time  to  come, 
that  I  may  lay  hold  on  eternal  life."  (1  Tim.  vi.  17-19.) 
"Why,  prithee,  what  dost  thpu  with  them?"  "Clothe  the 
naked,"  said  she.  With  that  his  countenance  fell.  So  he 
forbore  to  come  at  her  again ;  and  when  he  was  asked  the 
reason  why,  he  said  that  "Mercy  was  a  pretty  lass,  but  trou- 
bled with  ill  conditions." 

When  he  had  left  her.  Prudence  said,  "Did  I  not  tell  thee 

that  Mr.  Brisk  would  soon  forsake  thee  ?  yea,  he  will  raise  up 
p.  P.— 8. 


226  MERCY^S   SISTER  BOUNTIFUL. 

an  ill  report  of  thee ;  for,  notwithstanding  his  pretence  to  re- 
ligion, and  his  seeming  love  to  Mercy,  yet  Mercy  and  he  are 
of  tempers  so  different  that  I  believe  they  will  never  come 
together." 

Mercy.  I  might  have  had  husbands  afore  now,  though  I 
spake  not  of  it  to  any ;  but  they  were  sach  as  did  not  like  my 
conditions,  though  never  did  any  of  them  find  fault  with  my 
person.     So  they  and  I  could  not  agree.  "^  ^ 

Prud.  Mercy  in  our  days  is  little  set  by,  any  further  than 
as  to  its  name:  the  practice^  wlyy^  is  set  forth  by  thy  condi- 
tions, there  are  but  few  that  can  abide. 

"Well,"  said  Mercy,  ''if  nobody  will  "have  me,  I  will  die  a 
maid,  or  my  conditions  shall  be  to  me  as  a  husband ;  for  I  can- 
not change  my  nature ;  and  to  have  one  that  lies  cross  to  me 
in  this,  that  I  purpose  never  to  admit  of  as  long  as  I  live.  I 
had  a  sister,  named  Bountiful,  that  was  married  to  one  of 
these  churls ;  but  he  and  she  could  never  agree ;  but  because 
my  sister  was  resolved  to  do  as  she  had  begun,  that  is,  to  show 
kindness  to  the  poor,  therefore  her  husband  first  cried  her 
down  at  the  cross,*  and  then  turned  her  out  of  his  doors." 

Prud.  And  yet  he  was  a  professor,  I  warrant  you. 

Mercy.  Yes,  such  a  one  as  he  was,  and  of  such  as  he  the 
world  is  now  full ;  bu^  I  am  for  none  of  them  all. 

Now  Matthew,  the  eldest  son  of  Christiana,  fell  sick,  and 
his  sickness  was  sore  upon  him,  for  he  was  much  pained  in 
his  bowels,  so  that  he  was  with  it,  at  times,  pulled  as  it  were 
both  ends  together.  There  dwelt  also  not  far  from  thence 
one  Mr.  Skill,  an  ancient  and  well  approved  physician.  So 
Christiana  desired  it,  and  they  sent  for  him,  and  he  came. 
When  he  was  entered  the  room,  and  had  a  little  observed  the 
boy,  he  concluded  that  he  was  sick  of  the  gripes.  Then  he 
said   to  his  mother,  "What   diet  has  Matthew  of  late  fed 

*  Refers  to  the  Market  Cross,  where,  at  that  period,  a  husband  announced 
that  he  would  not  be  answerable  for  his  wife's  debts,  and  then  considered  he 
need  not  maintain  her. 


MATTHEW'S   SICKNESS.  227 

upon  ?  "  ^'Diet!  "  said  Christiana,  ''nothing  but  that  which 
is  wholesome."  The  physician  answered,  ''This  boy  has  been 
tampering  with  something  that  lies  in  his  maw  undigested, 
and  tht*t  will  not  away  without  means.  And  I  tell  you,  he 
must  be  purged,  or  else  he  will  die." 

Then  said  Samuel,  "Mother,  mother,  what  was  that  which 
my  brother  did  gather  up  and  eat,  so  soon  as  we  were  come 
from  the  gate  that  is  at  the  head  of  this  way  ?  You  know  that 
there  was  an  orchard  on  the  left  hand,  on  the  other  side  of 
the  wall,  and  some  of  the  trees  hung  over  the  wall,  and  my 
brother  did  plash  and  did  eat." 

"True,  my  child,"  said  Christiana,  "He  did  take  thereof, 
and  did  eat;  naughty  boy  as  he  was,  I  did  chide  him,  and  yet 
he  would  eat  thereof." 

Skill.  I  knew  he  had  eaten  something  that  was  not  whole- 
some food ;  and  that  food,  to  wit,  that  fruit,  is  even  the  most 
hurtful  of  all.  It  is  the  fruit  of  Beelzebub's  orchard.  I  do 
marvel  that  none  did  warn  you  of  it;  many  have  died  there- 
of. 

Then  Christiana  began  to  cry;  and  she  said,  "O  naughty 
boy!  and  O  careless  mother!  What  shall  I  do  for  my  son  ?  " 

Skill.  Come,  do  not  be  too  much  dejected:  the  boy  may 
do  well,  but  he  must  purge  and  vomit. 

Cnuis.  Pray,  sir,  try  the  utmost  of  your  skill  with  him, 
whatever  it  costs. 

Skill.  Nay,  I  hope  I  shall  be  reasonable. 

So  he  made  him  a  purge,  but  it  was  too  weak.  It  was  said 
it  was  made  of  the  blood  of  a  goat,  the  ashes  of  a  heifer,  and 
with  some  of  the  juice  of  hyssop,  etc.  (Heb  x.  1-4.)  When 
Mr.  Skill  had  seen  that  that  purge  was  too  weak,  he  made  him 
one  to  the  purpose ;  it  was  made  ex  came  et  sanguine  Christi  * 
(you  know  physicians  give  strange  medicines  to  their  pa- 
tients) ;  and  it  was  made  up  into  pills,  with  a  promise  or  two, 

*  *'  Of  the  flesh  and  of  the  blood  of  Christ,"— a  sentence  whicli  Bunyan 
modestly  says  he  borrowed.    (John  vi.  54-57  ;  Heb.  ix.  14.) 


228  MATTHEW  AND   THE  MEDICINE. 

and  a  proportionable  quantity  of  salt.  (Mark  ix.  49.)  Now 
he  was  to  take  them  three  at  a  time,  fasting,  in  half  a  quar- 
ter of  a  pint  of  the  tears  of  repentance.  When-  this  potion 
was  prepared,  and  brought  to  the  boy,  he  was  loth  to  take  it, 
though  torn  v/ith  the  gripes,  as  if  he  should  be  pulled  in 
pieces.  "  Come,  come,"  said  the  physician,  "You  must  take 
it."  ''It  goes  against  my  stomach,"  said  the  boy.  (Zech. 
xii.  10.)  ''I  must  have  you  take  it,"  said  his  mother.  "I 
shall  vomit  it  up  again,"  said  the  boy.  ''Pray,  sir,"  said 
Christiana  to  Mr.  Skill,  ''  how  dose  it  taste  ?  "  "It  has  no  ill 
taste,"  said  the  doctor;  and  with  that  she  touched  one  of  the 
pills  with  the  tip  of  her  tongue.  •'  Oh,  Matthew,"  said  she, 
"this  potion  is  sweeter  than  honey.  If  thou  lovest  thy  moth- 
er, if  thou  lovest  thy  brothers,  if  thou  lovest  Mercy,  if  thou 
lovest  thy  life,  take  it."  So  with  much  ado,  after  a  short 
prayer  for  the  blessing  of  God  upon  it,  he  took  it,  and  it 
wrought  kindly  with  him.  It  caused  him  to  purge,  it  caused 
him  to  sleep  and  rest  quietly ;  it  put  him  into  a  fine  heat  and 
breathing  sweat,  and  did  quite  rid  him  of  his  gripes.  So  in 
little  time  he  got  up,  and  would  go  from  room  to  room,  and 
talk  with  Prudence,  Piety,  and  Charity,  of  his  distemper,  and 
how  he  was  healed. 

So  when  the  boy  was  healed,  Christiana  asked  Mr.  Skill, 
saying,  "Sir,  what  will  content  you  for  your  pains  and  rare 
to  and  of  my  child?"  And  he  said,  "You  must  pay  ^he 
Master  of  the  College  of  Physicians,  accordihg  to  rules  made 
in  that  case  and  provided."     (Heb.  xiii.  11-16.) 

"But,  sir,"  said  she,    "  what  is  this  pill  good  for  else  ?" 

Skill.  It  is  an  universal  pill;  it  is  good  against  all  the  dis- 
eases that  pilgrims  are  incident  to ;  and  when  it  is  well  pre- 
pared, it  will  keep  good,  time  out  of  mind. 

Chris.  Pray,  sir,  make  me  up  twelve  boxes  of  them :  for  if 
I  can  get  these,  I  will  never  take  other  physic. 

Skill.  -These  pills  are  good  to  prevent  diseases,  as  well  as 
to  cure  when  one  is  sick.     Yea,  I  dare  say  it,  and  stand  to  it, 


LESSONS  FROM   THE  CLOUDS,   ETC.  329 

that  if  a  man  will  but  use  this  physic  as  he  should,  it  will 
make  him  live  for  ever.  (John  vi.  50.)  But,  good  Christiana, 
thou  must  give  these  pills  no  other  way  but  as  I  have  pre- 
scribed; for  if  you  do,  they  will  do  no  good.' 

So  he  gave  unto  Christiana  physic  for  herself,  and  her  boys, 
and  for  Mercy ;  and  bid  Matthew  take  heed  how  he  ate  any 
more  green  plums,  and  kissed  them,  and  went  his  way. 

It  was  told  you  before  that  Prudence  bid  the  boys  that  if  at 
any  time  they  would,  they  should  ask  her  some  questions  that 
might  be  profitable,  and  she  would  say  something  to  them. 

Then  Matthew,  who  had  been  sick,  asked  her  *'why,  for 
the  most  pact,  physic  should  i)e  bitter  to  our  palates." 

Prud.  To  show  how-unwelcome  the  Word  of  God,  and  the 
effects  thereof,  are  to  the  carnal  heart. 

Matt.  Why  does  physic,  if  it  does  good,  purge,  and  cause 
that  we  vomit  ? 

Prud.  To  show  that  the  Word,  when  it  works  effectually, 
cleanseth  the  heart  and  mind.  For  look,  what  the  one  doth 
to  the  body,  the  other  doth  to  the  soul. 

Matt.  What  should  we  learn  by  seeing  the  flame  of  our  fire 
go  upwards  ?  and  by  seeing  the  beams  and  sweet  influences 
of  the  sun  strike  downwards  ? 

Prud.  By  the  going  up  of  the  fire,  we  are  taught  to  ascend 
to  heaven  by  fervent  and  hot  desires;  and  by  the  sun's  send- 
ing his  heat,  beams,  and  sweet  influences  downwards,  we  are 
taught  that  the  Saviour  of  the  world,  though  high,  reacheth 
down  with  his  grace  and  love  to  us  below. 

Matt.  Where  have  the  clouds  their  water  ? 

Prud.  Out  of  the  sea. 

Matt.  What  may  we  learn  from  that  ? 

Prud.  That  ministers  should  fetch  their  doctrine  from  God. 

Matt.  Why  do  they  empty  themselves  upon  the  earth  ? 

Prud.  To  sliow  that  ministers  should  give  out  what  they 
know  of  God  to  the  world. 

Matt.   Why  is  the  rainbow  caused  by  the  sun  ? 


230  LESSONS   FROM   NATURE. 

pRUD.  To  show  that  the  covenant  of  God's  grace  is  con- 
firmed to  us  in  Christ. 

Matt.  Wliy  do  the.  springs  come  from  the  sea  to  us,  through 
the  earth  ? 

Pkud.  To  show  that  tlie  grace  of  God  comes  to  us  through 
the  body  of  Christ. 

Matt.  Why  do  some  of  the  springs  rise  out  of  the  tops  of 
high  hills  ? 

Prud.  To  show  that  the  spirit  of  grace  shall  spring  up  in 
some  that  are  great  and  mighty,  as  well  as  in  many  that  are 
poor  and  low. 

Matt.   Why  doth  the  fire  fasten  upon  the  candle-wick  ? 

Prud.  To  show  that  unless  grace  doth  kindle  upon  the 
heart,  there  will  be  no  true  light  of  life  in  us. 

Matt.  Why  is  the  wick,  and  tallow,  and  all,  spent  to  main- 
tain the  light  of  the  candle  ? 

Prud.  To  show  that  body,  and  soul,  and  all,  should  be  at 
the  service  of,  and  spend  themselves  to  maintain,  in  good 
condition,  that  grace  of  God  that  is  in  us. 

Matt.  Why  doth  the  pelican  pierce  her  own  breast  with 
her  bill  ? 

Prud.  To  nourish  her  young  ones  with  her  blood,  and 
thereby  to  show  that  Christ  the  blessed  so  loveth  his  young, 
his  people,  as  to  save  them  from  death  by  his  blood. 

Matt.  What  may  one  learn  by  hearing  the  cock  crow  ? 

Prud.  Learn  to  remember  Peter's  sin,  and  Peter's  repent- 
ance. The  cock's  crowing  shows  also  that  day  is  coming  on; 
let  then  the  crowing  of  the  cock  put  thee  in  mind  of  that  last 
and  terrible  day  of  judgment. 

Now,  about  this. time  their  month  was  out:  wherefore  they 
signified  to  those  of  tlie  house  that  it  was  convenient  for  them 
to  up  and  be  going. 

Then  said  Joseph  to  his  mother,  "  It  is  convenient  that  you 
forget  not  to  send  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Interpreter,  to  pray  him 
to  grant  that  Mr.  Greatheart  should  be  sent  unto  us,  that  ho 


THE   SIGHT   OF   SIN.  231 

maybe  our  conductor  tliB  rest  of  our  way."  "Good  boy," 
said  she,  "I  had  almost  forgot."  So  she  drew  up  a  petition, 
and  prayed  Mr,  Watchful,  the  Porter,  to  send  it  by  some  fit 
man  to  her  good  friend  Mr.  Interpreter;  who,  when  it  was 
come,  and  he  had  seen  the  contents  of  the  petition,  said  to  the 
messenger,  "  Go  tell  them  that  I  will  send  him." 

When  the  family  where  Christiana  was  saw  that  they  had  a 
purpose  to  go  forward,  they  called  the  whole  house  together, 
to  give  thanks  to  their  King  for  sending  of  them  such  profit- 
able guests  as  these.  Which  done  they  said  to  Christiana, 
**  And  shall  we  not  show  thee  something,  according  as  our 
custom  is  to  do  to  pilgrims,  on  which  thou  mayest  meditate 
when  thou  art  upon  the  way  ?  "  So  they  took  Christiana,  her 
children,  and  Mercy  into  the  closet  and  showed  them  one  of 
the  apples  that  Eve  did  eat  of,  and  that  she  also  did  give  to 
her  husband,  and  that  for  the  eating  of  which  they  both  were 
turned  out  of  Paradise,  and  asked  her  what  she  thought 
that  was.  Then  Christiana  said,  "It  is  food  or  poison,  I 
know  not  which."  So  they  opened  the  matter  to  her,  and  she 
held  up  lier  hands  and  wondered.     (Gen.  iii.  6;  Rom.  vii.  24.) 

Then  they  had  her  to  a  place,  and  showed  her  Jacob's  lad- 
der.  Now  at  that  time  there  were  some  angels  ascending 
upon  it.  So  Christiana  looked,  and  looked,  to  see  the  angels 
go  up;  and  so  did  the  rest  of  the  company.  Then  they  were 
going  into  another  place,  to  show  them  something  else ;  but 
James  said  to  his  mother,  "  Pray  bid  them  stay  here  a  little 
longer,  for  this  is  a  curious  sight."  So  they  turned  again  and 
stood  feeding  their  eyes  with  this,  so  pleasant  a  prospect. 
(Gen.  xxviii.  12;  John  i.  51.)  After  this,  they  had  them  into 
a  place  where  did  hang  up  a  golden  anchor;  so  they  bid 
Christiana  take  it  down ;  "For,"  said  they,  "you  shall  have 
it  with  you,  for  it  is  of  absolute  necessity  that  you  should, 
that  you  may  lay  hold  of  that  within  the  veil  and  stand  stead- 
fast, in  case  you  should  meet  with  turbulent  weather."  So  , 
they  V,  ere  glad  thereof.     (Heb.  vi.  19.)    Then  the^  took  them, 


233         A  TOKEN  FROM  THE  LORD. 

and  had  them  to  the  mount  upon  which  Abraham  our  father 
had  offered  up  Isaac  his  son,  and  showed  them  the  altar,  the 
wood,  the  fire,  and  the  knife,  for  they  remain  to  be  seen  to 
this  very  day.  (Gen.  xxii.  9.)  When  they  had  seen  it,  they 
held  up  their  hands  and  blessed  themselves,  and  said,  "Oh, 
what  a  man  for  love  to  his  master,  and  for  denial  to  himself, 
was  Abraham !  "  After  they  had  showed  them  all  these  things, 
Prudence  took  them  into  the  dining-room,  where  stood  a  pair 
of  excellent  virginals ;  so  she  played  upon  them,  and  turned 
what  she  had  showed  them  into  this  excellent  song,  saying: 

^*  Eve's  apple  we  have  showed  you, 

Of  that  be  you  aware  ; 
You  have  seen  Jacob's  ladder,  too. 

Upon  which  angels  are. 
An  anchor  you  received  have. 

Bat  let  not  these  suffice, 
Until,  with  Abr'am,  you  have  gave 

Your  best,  a  sacrifice." 

Now  about  this  time,  one  knocked  at  the  door.  So  the 
Porter  opened,  and  behold,  Mr.  Greatheart  was  there ;  but 
when  he  was  come  in,  what  joy  was  there!  For  it  came  now 
fresh  again  into  their  mixids,  how  but  a  while  ago  he  had  slain 
old  Grim  Bloodyman,  the  giant,  and  had  delivered  them  from 
the  lions. 

Then  said  Mr.  Greatheart  to  Christiana  and  to  Mercy,  *'  My 
Lord  hath  sent  each  of  you  a  bottle  of  wine,  and  also  some 
parched  corn,  together  with  a  couple  of  pomegranates.  He 
has  also  sent  the  boys  some  figs  aud  raisins,  to  refresh  you  on 
your  way." 

Then  they  addressed  themselves  to  their  journey ;  and  Pru- 
dence and  Piety  went  along  with  them.  When  they  came  at 
the  gate,  Christiana  asked  the  Porter  if  any  of  late  went  by. 
He  said,  *'  No ;  only  one  some  time  since,  who  also  told  me  that 
of  late  there  had  been  a  great  robbery  committed  on  the  King's 
highway,  as  you  go ;  but,  he  said,  the  thieves  are  taken,  and 


TAKING  LEAVE  OF  THE  PORTER.      233 

will  shortly  be  tried  for  their  lives."  Then  Christiana  and 
Mercy  were  afraid ;  but  Matthew  said,  **  Mother,  fear  nothing, 
as  long  as  Mr.  Greatheart  is  to  go  with  us,  and  to  be  our  con- 
ductor," 

Then  said  Christiana  to  the  Porter,  ''  Sir,  lam  much  obliged 
to  you  for  all  the  kindnesses  that  you  have  showed  me  since  I 
came  hither;  and  also  for  that  you  have  been  so  loving  and 
kind  to  my  children.  I  know  not  how  to  gratify  your  kind- 
ness :  wherefore,  pray,  as  a  token  of  my  respects  to  you,  ac- 
cept of  this  small  mite."  So  she  put  a  gold  angel  in  his  hand  ; 
and  he  made  her  a  low  obeisance,  and  said,  *'Let  thy  gar- 
ments be  always  white,  and  let  thy  head  want  no  ointment. 
Let  Mercy  live,  and  not  die,  and  let  not  her  works  be  few." 
And  to  the  boys  he  said,  "  Do  you  fly  youthful  lusts,  and  fol- 
low after  godliness  with  them  that  are  grave  and  wise ;  so 
shall  you  put  gladness  into  your  mother's  heart,  and  obtain 
praise  of  all  that  are  sober-minded."  So  they  thanked  the 
Porter,  and  departed. 

Now,  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  they  went  forward  until  they 
were  come  to  the  brow  of  the  hill,  where  Piety,  bethinking 
herself,  cried  out,  "Alas !  I  have  forgot  what  I  intended  to  be- 
stow upon  Christiana  and  her  companions;  I  will  go  back 
and  fetch  it."  So  she  ran  and  fetched  it.  While  she  was 
gone,  Christiana  thought  she  heard  in  a  grove,  a  little  way  off, 
on  the  right  hand,  a  most  curious,  melodious  note,  with  words 
much  like  these : 

**  Through  all  my  life  thy  favour  is 
So  frankly  showed  to  me, 
That  ill  thy  house  for  ever  more 
My  dwelling-place  shall  be." 

And,  listening  still,  she  thought  she  heard  another  answer 
it,  saying— 

*'  For  why  ?     The  Lord  our  God  is  good  ; 
His  mercy  is  for  ever  sure 
His  truth  at  all  times  firmly  stood, 
And  shall  from  age  to  age  endure." 


234  THE  VALLEY  OF  HUMILIATION. 

So  Christiana  asked  Prudence  what  it  was  that  made  those 
curious  notes.  "They  are,"  said  she,  "our  country  birds; 
they  sing  these  notes  but  seldom,  except  it  be  at  the  spring, 
when  the  flowers  appear,  and  the  sun  shines  warm,  and  then 
you  may  hear  them  all  day  long.  (Solomon's  Song  ii.  11,  12.) 
I  often,"  said  she,  "go  out  to  hear  them;  we  also  ofttimes 
keep  them  tame  in  our  house.  They  are  very  fine  company 
for  us  when  we  are  melancholy ;  also  they  make  the  woods, 
and  groves,  and  solitary  places,  places  desirous  to  be  in." 

By  this  time.  Piety  was  come  again ;  so  she  said  to  Chris- 
tiana, "Look  here;  I  have  brought  thee  a  scheme  of  all  those 
things  that  thou  hast  seen  at  our  house,  upon  which  thou 
mayest  look  when  thou  findest  thyself  forgetful,  and  call  those 
things  again  to  remembrance  for  thy  edification  and  comfort." 

Now  they  began  to  go  down  the  hill  into  the  Valley  of 
Humiliation.*  It  was  a  steep  hill,  and  the  way  was  slippery; 
but  they  were  very  careful,  so  they  got  down  pretty  well. 
When  they  were  down  in  the  valley,  Piety  said  to  Christiana, 
"This  is  the  place  where  Christian  your  husband  met  with 
the  foul  fiend  Apollyon,  and  where  they  had  that  dreadful 
fight  that  they  had;  I  know  you  cannot  but  have  heard  there- 
of. But  be  of  good  courage ;  as  long  as  you  have  here  Mr. 
Greatheart  to  be  your  guide  and  conductor,  we  hope  you  will 
fare  the  better."  So  when  these  two  had  committed  the  pil- 
grims unto  the  conduct  of  their  guide,  he  went  forward,  and 
they  went  after. 

Then  said  Mr.  Greatheart,  "We  need  not  to  be  so  afraid  of 
this  valley,  for  here  is  nothing  to  hurt  us,  unless  we  procure 
it  to  ourselves.  It  is  true.  Christian  did  here  meet  with  A})ol- 
lyon,  with  whom  he  also  had  a  sore  combat  ;t  but  that  fray 
was  the  fruit  of  those  slips  that  he  got  in  his  going  down  the 
hill;  for. they  that  get  slips  there  must  look  for  combats  here. 
And  hence  it  is  that  this  valley  has  got  so  hard  a  name:  for 
the  common  people,  when  they  hear  that  some  frightful  thing 
*  See  page  57.  t  See  page  60, 


A  PILLAR   WITH   AN   INSCRIPTION.  235 

has  befallen  such  a  one  in  such  a  place,  are  of  opinion  that 
that  place  is  haunted  with  some  foul  fiend  or  evil  spirit ;  when, 
alas!  it  is  for  the  fruit  of  their  doing  that  such  things  do  be- 
fall them  there. 

*'  This  Valley  of  Humiliation  is  of  itself  as  fruitful  a  place 
as  any  the  crow  flies  over;  and  I  am  persuaded,  if  we  could 
hit  upon  it,  we  might  find  somewhere  hereabouts  something 
that  might  give  us  an  account  why  Christian  was  so  hardly 
beset  in  this  place."* 

Then  James  said  to  his  mother,  "  Lo,  younder  stands  a  pil- 
lar, and  it  looks  as  if  something  was  written  thereon ;  let  us 
go  and  see  what  it  is."  So  they  went  and  found  there 
writteii,  "Let  Christian's  slips,  before  he  came  hither,  and 
the  battles  that  he  met  with  in  this  place,  be  a  warning  to 
those  that  come  after."  "Lo,"  said  their  guide,  "did  I  not 
tell  you  that  there  was  something  hereabouts  that  would  give 
intimation  of  the  reason  why  Christian  was  so  hard  beset  in 
this  place  ? "  Then  turning  himself  to  Christiana,  he  said, 
"No  disparagement  to  Christian,  more  than  to  many  others 
whose  hap  and  lot  his  was;  for  it  is  easier  going  up  than  down 
this  hill ;  and  that  can  be  said  but  of  few  hills  in  all  these 
])arts  of  the  world.  But  we  will  leave  the  good  man;  he  is  at 
rest.  He  also  had  a  brave  victory  over  his  enemy;  let  Him 
grant  that  dwelleth  above,  that  we  fare  no  worse  when  ^ 
come  to  be  tried,  than  he. 

"But  we  will  come  again  to  this  Valley  of  Humiliation.  It 
is  the  best  and  most  useful  piece  of  ground  in  all  these  parts. 
It  is  fat  ground,  and,  as  you  see,  cansisteth  much  in  meadows; 
and  if  a  man  w-as  to  come  here  in  the  summer  time,  as  we  do 
now,  if  he  knew  not  anything  before  thereof,  and  if  he  also 
delighted  himself  in  the  sight  of  his  eyes,  he  might  see  that 
that  would  be  delightful  to  him.  Behold  how  green  this  val- 
ley is,  also  how  beautified  with  lilies.  (Solomon's  Song  ii.  1.) 
I  have  also  known  many  labouring  men  that  have  got  good 
estates  in  this  Valley  cf  Humiliation  ('for  God  resisteth  the 


236  THE   SHEPHERD   BOY'S   SONG. 

proud,  but  gives  grace  unto  the  humble  ')  (James  iv.  6 ;  1 
Pet.  V.  5) ;  for  indeed  it  is  a  very  fruitful  soil,  and  doth  bring 
forth  by  handfuls.  Some  also  have  wished  that  the  next  way 
to  their  Father's  house  were  here,  that  they  might  be  troubled 
no  more  with  either  hills  or  mountains  to  go  over ;  but  the 
way  is  the  way,  and  there  is  an  end." 

Now,  as  they  were  going  along,  and  talking,  they  espied  a 
boy  feeding  his  father's  sheep.  The  boy  wns  in  very  mean 
clothes,  but  of  a  very  fresh  and  well-favoured  countenance; 
and  as  he  sat  by  himself  he  sang.  "  Hark!"  said  Mr.  Great- 
heart,  ''to  what  the  shepherd's  boy  saith."  So  they  heark- 
ened, and  he  said : 

"  He  that  is  down  needs  fear  no  fall ; 
He  that  is  low,  no  pride; 
He  that  is  humble  ever  shall 
Have  God  to  be  his  guide.* 

**  I  am  content  with  what  I  have, 
Little  be  it,  or  much  ; 
And,  Lord,  contentment  still  I  crave, 
Because  thou  savest  such. 

**  Fulness  to  such  a  burden  is, 
That  go  on  pilgrimage  ; 
Here  little,  and  hereafter  bliss, 
Is  best  from  age  to  age. "  f 

Then  said  the  guide,  "Do  you  hear  him?  I  will  dare  to 
say  that  this  boy  lives  a  merrier  life,  and  wears  more  of  that 
herb  called  heart's-ease  in  his  bosom,  than  he  that  is  clad  in 
silk  and  velvet.     But  we  will  proceed  in  our  discourse. 

"In  this  valley  our  Lord  formerly  had  his  country  house; 
beloved  much  to  be  here;  he  loved  also  to  walk  these  mead- 
ows, for  he  found  the  air  was  pleasant.  Besides,  here  a  man 
shall  be  free  from  the  noise  and  from  the  hurryings  of  this 
life.     All  states  are  full  of  noise  and  confusion,  only  the  Valley 

*  Phil  iv.  12.  13.  t  Ileb.  xiii.  5. 


FORGETFUL   GREEN.  237 

of  Humilifition  is  that  empty  and  solitary  place.  Here  a  man 
shall  not  be  so  let  and  hindered  in  his  contemplation,  as  in 
other  places  he  is  apt  to  be.  This  is  a  valley  that  nobody 
walks  in,  but  those  that  love  a  pilgrim's  life.  And  though 
Christian  had  the  hard  hap  to  meet  here  with  ApoUyon,  and 
to  enter  with  him  a  brisk  encounter,  yet  I  must  tell  you  that, 
in  former  times,  men  have  met  with  angels  here,  have  found 
pearls  here,  and  have  in  this  place  found  the  words  of  life. 
(Hosea  xii.  4,  5.) 

*'  Did  I  say  our  Lord  had  liere  in  former  days  his  country 
house,  and  that  he  loved  here  to  walk  ?  I  will  add,  in  this 
place,  and  to  the  people  that  love  and  trace  these  grounds,  he 
has  left  a  yearly  revenue,  to  be  faithfully  paid  them  at  cer- 
tain seasons,  for  their  maintenance  by  the  way,  and  for  their 
further  encouragement  to  go  on  in  their  pilgrimage.  (Matt. 
xi.  29.) 

Now,  as  they  went  on,  Samuel  said  to  Mr.  Greatheart, 
'' Sir,  I  perceive  that  in  this  valley  my  father  and  Apollyon 
had  their  battle ;  but  whereabout  was  the  fight  ?  for  I  per- 
ceive this  valley  is  large." 

Greatheart.  Your  father  had  that  battle  with  Apollyon  at 
a  place  yonder,  before  us,  in  a  narrow  passage  just  beyond 
Forgetful  Green.  And  indeed  that  place  is  the  most  danger- 
ous place  in  all  these  parts.  For  if  at  any  time  the  pilgrims 
meet  with  any  brunt,  it  is  when  they  forget  what  favours  they 
have  received,  and  how  unworthy  they  are  of  them.  This  is 
the  place  also  where  others  have  been  hard  put  to  it.  But 
more  of  the  place  when  we  come  to  it ;  for  I  persuade  myself 
that  to  this  day  there  remains  either  some  sign  of  the  battle, 
or  some  monument  to  testify  that  such  a  battle  there  was 
fought.       ^ 

Then  said  Mercy,  ' '  I  think  I  am  as  well  in  this  valley  as  I 
have  been  anywhere  else  in  all  our  journey;  the  place,  me- 
thiuks,  suits  with  my  spirit.  I  love  to  be  in  such  places, 
where  there   is  no  rattling  with  coaches,  nor  rumbling  with 


238  SIGNS   OF   CEIRISTIAN'S   COMBAT. 

wheels.  Methiuks  here  one  may,  without  much  jpolestation, 
be  thinking  what  he  is,  whence  he  came,  what  he  has  done, 
and  to  what  the  King  has  called  him.  Here  one  may  think, 
and  break  at  heart,  and  melt  in  ^  one's  spirit,  until  one's  eyes 
become  like  '  the  fish-pools  of  Heshbon.'  (Solomon's  Song 
vii.  4.)  They  that  go  rightly  through  this  Valley  of  Baca 
make  it  a  well;  the  rain  that  God  sends  down  from  heaven 
upon  them  that  are  here  also  filleth  the  pools.  (Psa.  Ixxxiv. 
6,  7.)  This  valley  is  that  from  whence  also  the  King  will 
give  to  them  their  vineyards  (Hosea  ii.  5) ;  and  they  that  go 
through  it  shall  sing,  as  Christian  did,  for  all  he  met  with 
Apollyon.'^ 

"It  is  true,"  said  their  guide,  "I  have  gone  through  this 
valley  many  a  time,  and  never  was  better  than  when  here.  I 
have  also  been  a  conductor  to  several  pilgrims,  and  they  have 
confessed  the  same .  '  To  this  man  will  I  look  (saith  the  King), 
even  to  him  that  is  poor  and  of  a  contrite  spirit,  and  trembleth 
at  my  word.'"  (Isa.  Ixvi.  2.)  Now  they  were  come  to  the 
place  where  the  afore-mentioned  battle  was  fought.  Then 
said  the  guide  to  Cliristiaua,  her  children,  and  Mercy,  "This 
is  the  place;  on  this  ground  Christian  stood,  and  up  there 
came  ApoUyon  against  him.  And  look,  did  I  not  tell  you  ? 
Here  is  some  of  your  husband's  blood  upon  these  stones  to  this 
day;  behold,  also,  how  here  and  there  are  yet  to  be  seen  upon 
the  place  some  of  the  shivers  of  Apollyon's  broken  darts;  see 
also  how  they  did  beat  the  ground  with  their  feet  as  they 
fought,  to  make  good  their  places  against  each  other;  how, 
also,  with  their  by-blows,  they  did  split  the  very  stones  in 
pieces.  Yerily,  Christian  did  here  play  the  man,  and  showed 
himself  as  stout  as  could,  had  he  been  there,  even  Hercules 
himself.  When  Ayollyon  was  beat,  he  made  hiS*  retreat  to 
the  next  valley,  that  is  called  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of 
Death,  unto  which  we  shall  come  anon. 

"Lo,  yonder  also  stands  a  monunient,  on  which  is  engraven 
this  battle,  and  Christian's  victory,  to  iiis  fame,  throughout  all 


THE   SHADOW   OF  DEATH.  239 

ages."  So,  because  it  stood  just  on  the  wayside  before  them, 
they  stepped  to  it,  and  read  the  writing,  which,  word  for 
word,  was  this : 

"  Hard  by  here  was  a  battle  fought. 

Most  strange,  and  yet  most  true  ; 
Christian  and  Apollyon  sought 

Each  other  to  subdue. 
The  man  so  bravely  play'd  the  man, 

He  made  the  fiend  to  fly  ; 
Of  which  a  monument  I  stand, 

The  same  to  testify." 

When  they  had  passed  by  this  place,  they  came  upon  the 
borders  of  the  Shadow  of  Death ;  and  tjiis  valley  was  longer 
than  the  other;  a  place,  also,  most  strangely  haunted  with 
evil  things,  as  many  are  able  to  testify.  But  these  women 
and  children  went  the  better  through  it  because  they  had  day- 
light, and  because  Mr.  Greatbeart  was  their  conductor. 

When  they  were  entered  upon  this  valley,  they  thought 
that  they  heard  a  groaning,  as  of  dead*  men;  a  very  great 
groaning.  They  thought,  also,  they  did  hear  words  of  lamen 
tation  spoken,  as  of  some  in  extreme  torment.  Tliese  things 
made  the  boys  to  quake,  the  women  also  looked  pale  and  wan; 
but  their  guide  bid  them  be  of  good  comfort. 

So  they  went  on  a  little  further,  and  they  thought  that  they 
felt  the  ground  begin, to  shake  under  them,  as  if  some  hollow 
place  was  here ;  they  heard  also  a  kind  of  hissing,  as  of  ser- 
pents; but  nothing  as  yet  appeared.  Then  said  the  boys, 
*'  Are  we  not  yet  at  the  end  of  this  doleful  place  ?  "  But  the 
guide  also  bid  them,  be  of  good  courage,  and  look  well  to  their 
feet,  ^'  Lest  haply,"  said  lie,  "you  be  taken  in  some  snare." 

Now  James  began  to  be  sick,  but  I  think  the  cause  thereof 
was  fear;  so  his  mother  gave  him  some  of  that  glass  of  spirits 
that  she  had  given  her  at  the  Interpreter's  house,  and  three  of 
the  pills  that  Mr.  Skill  had  prepared,  and  the  boy  began  to 

♦JRather,  dying. 


240      GREATIIEART  ENCOURAGES  THE  PILGRIMS. 

revive.  Thus  they  went  on,  till  they  came  to  abojjt  the  middle 
of  the  valley,  and  then  Christiana  said,  ^'Methinks  I  see  some- 
thing yonder  upon  the  road  before  us,  a  thing  of  a  shape  such 
as  I  have  not  seen.'?  Then  said  Joseph,  "Mother,  what  is 
it?"  "An  ugly  thing,  child;  an  ugly  thing,"  said  she. 
*'But,  mother,  what  is  it  like  ?  "  said  he,  "  It  is  like  I  can- 
not tell  what,"  said  she.  And  now  it  was  but  a  little  way  off; 
then  said  she,  "  It  is  nigh." 

**  Well,  well,"  said  Mr.  Greatheart,  '*let  them  that  are  most 
afraid  keep  close  to  me."  So  the  tiend  came  on,  and  the  con- 
ductor met  it;  but  when  it  was  just  come  to  him,  it  vanished 
to  all  their  sights.  Then  remembered  they  what  had  been 
said  some  time  ago,  *' Resist  the  devil,  and  he  will  flee  from 
you." 

They  went  therefore  on,  as  being  a  little  refreshed;  but 
they  had  not  gone  far,  before  Mercy,  looking  behind  her,  saw, 
as  she  thought,  something  most  like  a  lion,  and  it  came  a 
great  padding  pace  after ;  and  it  had  a  hollow  voice  of  roar- 
ing; and  at  every  roar  that  it  gave  it  made  all  the  valley  echo, 
and  their  hearts  to  ache,  save  the  heart  of  him  who  was  their 
guide.  So  it  came  up ;  and  Mr.  Greatheart  went  behind,  and 
put  the  pilgrims  all  before.  The  lion  also  came  on  apace,  and 
Mr.  Greatheart  addressed  himself  to  give  him  battle.  But 
when  he  saw  that  it  was  determined  that  resistance  should  be 
made,  he  also  drew  back,  and  came  no  further.  (1  Pet.  v.  8,  9.) 

Then  they  went  on  again,  and  their  conductor  did  go  be- 
fore them,  till  they  came  at  a  place  where  was  cast  up  a  pit 
the  whole  breadth  of  the  way;  and,  before  they  could  be  pre- 
pared to  go  over  that,  a  great  mist  and  darkness  fell  upon 
them,  80  that  they  could  not  see.  Then  said  the  pilgrims, 
*'Alas!  now  what  shall  we  do?  But  their  guide  made  an- 
swer, ''Fear  not,  stand  still,  and  see  what  an  end  willbe  put 
to  this  also."  So  they  staid  there  because  their  path  was 
marred.  They  then  also  thought  that  they  did  hear  more  ap- 
parently the  noise  and  rushing  of  the  enemies;  the  fire,  also, 


GIANT  MAUL  -Page  242 


THE  PILGRIMS   PRAY.  241 

and  the  smoke  of  the  pit,  was  much  easier  to  be  discerned. 
Then  said  Christiana  to  Mercy,  "Now  I  see  what  my  poor 
husband  ^*ent  through;  I  have  heard  much  of  this  place,  but 
never  was  here  before  now.  Poor  man,  he  went  here  all  alone 
in  the  night :  he  had  night  almost  quite  through  the  way  ;  also, 
these  fiends  were  busy  about  him.  as  if  they  would  have  torn 
him  in  pieces.  Many  have  spoken  of  it,  but  none  can  tell 
what  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death  should  mean,  uutil 
they  come  in  it  themselves.  '  The  heart  knows  its  own  bitter- 
ness, and  a  stranger  intermeddleth  not  with  its  joy.'  To  be 
here  is  a  fearful  things " 

Greatheart.  This  is  like  doing  business  in  great  waters,  or 
like  going  down  into  the  deep ;  this  is  like  being  in  the  heart 
of  the  sea,  and  like  going  down  to  the  bottoms  of  the  moun- 
tains. Now  it  seems  as  if  the  earth,  with  its  bars,  were  about 
us  for  ever.  But  let  them  that  walk  in  darkness,  and  have  no 
light,  trust  in  the  name  of  the  Lord,  and  stay  upon  their  God. 
(Isa.  1.  10.)  For  my  part,  as  I  have  told  you  already,  T  have 
gone  often  through  this  valley,  and  have  been  much  harder 
put  to  it  than  now  I  am,  and  yet  you  see  I  am  alive.  I  would 
not  boast,  for  that  I  am  not  mine  own  saviour;  but  I  trust  we 
shall  have  a  good  deliverance.  Come,  let  us  pray  for  light  to 
him  tliat  can  lighten  our  darkness,  and  that  can  rebuke  not 
only  these,  but  all  the  satans  in  hell. 

So  they  cried  and  prayed,  and  God  sent  light  and  deliver- 
ance, for  there  was  now  no  let  in  their  way ;  no,  not  there 
where  but  now  they  were  stopped  with  a  pit.  Yet  they  were 
not  got  through  the  valley ;  so  they  went  on  still,  and  behold, 
great  stinks  and  loathsome  smells,  to  the  great  annoyance  of 
them.  Then  said  Mercy  to  Christiana,  "There  is  not  such 
pleasant  being  here  as  at  the  gate,  or  at  the  Interpreter's,  or 
at  the  house  where  we  lay  last." 

"Oh,  but,"  said  one  of  the  boys,  "it  is  not  so  bad  to  go 
through  as  to  abide  here  always ;  and  for  aught  I  know,  one 
reason  why  we  must  go  this  way  to  the  house  prepared  for  us 
is,  that  our  home  might  be  made  the  sweeter  to  us." 


243  AMONG  THE   SNARES. 

''Well  said,  Samuel,"  quoth  the  guide;  "  £hou  hast  now 
spoke  like  a  man,"  "Why,  if  ever  I  get  out  here  again," 
said  the  boy,  "I  think  I  shall  prize  light  and  good  way  better 
than  ever  I  did  in  all  my  life."  Then  said  the  guide,  "We 
shall  be  out  by  and  by." 

So  on  they  went,  and  Joseph  said,  "  Cannot  we  see  to  the 
end  of  this  valley  as  yet  ?  "  Then  said  the  guide,  "  Look  to 
your  feet,  for  you  shall  presently  be  among  the  snares."  So 
they  looked  to  their  feet,  and  went  on;  but  they  were  troubled 
much  with  the  snares.  Now,  when  they  were  come  among 
the  snares,  they  espied  a  man  cast  into  the  ditch  on  the  left 
hand,  w^ith  his  flesh  all  rent  and  torn.  Then  said  the  guide, 
"  Tiiat  is  one  Heedless,  that  was  a-going  this  way ;  he  has  lain 
there  a  great  while.  Ther<3  was  one  Take-heed  with  him,  when 
he  was  taken  and  slain,  but  he  escaped  their  hands.  You 
cannot  imagine  how  many  are  killed  hereabout,  and  yet  men 
are  so  foolishly  venturous  as  to  set  out  lightly  on  pilgrimage, 
and  to  come  withouc  a  guide.  Poor  Christian  !  it  was  a 
wonder  that  he  here  escaped;  but  he  was  beloved  of  his  God, 
also  he  had  a  good  heart  of  his  own,  or  else  he  could  never 
have  done  it." 

Now  they  drew  towards  the  end  of  the  way ;  and  just  there 
where  Christian  had  seen  the  cave  wdien  he  went  by,  out 
thence  came  forth  Maul,  a  giant.  This  Maul  did  use  to  spoil 
young  pilgrims  with  sophistry ;  and  he  called  Greatheart  by 
his  name,  and  said  unto  him,  "How  many  times  have  you 
been  forbidden  to  do  these  things  ?  "  Then  said  Mr.  Great- 
heart,  "What  things  ?  "  "  What  things  ?  "  quoth  the  giant; 
"  yoil  know  what  things ;  but  I  will  put  an  end  to  your  trade." 
"But  pray,"  said  Mr.  Greatheart,  "before  we  fall  to  it,  let  us 
understand  wherefore  we  must  fight."  Now  the  women  and" 
children  stood  trembling,  and  knew  not  what  to  do.  Quoth 
the  giant,  "You  rob  the  country,  and  rob  it  with  the  worst 
of  thefts."  "'These  are  but  generals,"  said  Mr.  Greatheart; 
"come  to  particulars,  man."      Then  said  the  giant,  "Thou 


GREATHEART   PRAYS.  ^  248 

practisest  the  craft  of  a  kidnapper;  thou  gatherest  up  women 
and  children,  and  carriest  them  into  a  strange  country,  to  the 
weakeuing  of  my  master's  kingdom."  ''But  now,"  Great- 
heart  replied,  "I  am  a  servant  of  the  God  of  heaven;  my 
business  is  to  persuade  sinners  to  repentance;  I  am  command- 
ed to  do  my  endeavour  to  turn  men,  women,  and  children, 
'  from  darkness  to  light,  and  from  the  power  of  Satan  unto 
God  ; '  and  if  this  be  indeed  the  ground  of  thy  quarrel,  let  us 
fall  to  it  as  soon  as  thou  wilt." 

Then  the  giant  came  up,  and  Mr.  Greatheart  went  to  meet 
him;  and  as  he  went,  he  drew  his  sword,  but  the  giant  had  a 
club.  So  without  more  ado,  they  fell  to  it,  and  at  the  first 
blow  the  giant  struck  Mr.  Greatheart  down  upon  one  of  his 
knees;  with  that  the  women  and  children  cried  out.  So  Mr. 
Greatheart,  recovering  himself,  laid  about  him  in  full  lusty 
mauner,  and  gave  the  giant  a  wound  in  his  arm;  thus  he 
fought  for  the  space  of  an  hour,  to  that  height  of  heat,  that 
the  breath  came  out  of  the  giant's  nostrils  as  the  heat  doth 
out  of  a  boiling  cauldron. 

Then  they  sat  down  to  rest  them,  but  Mr.  Greatheart  be- 
took him  to  prayer;  also  the  women  and  children  did  nothing 
but  sigh  and  cry  all  the  time  that  the  battle  did  last. 

When  they  had  rested  them  and  taken  breath,  they  both 
fell  to  it  again,  and  Mr.  Greatheart,  with  a  full  blow,  fetched 
the  giant  down  to  the  ground.  ' '  Nay,  hold,  and  let  me  re- 
cover," quoth  he;  so  Mr.  Greatheart  fairly  let  him  get  up. 
So  to  it  they  went  again,  and  the  giant  missed  but  little  of 
•all-to-breaking  Mr.  Greatheart's  skull  with  his  club. 

Mr.  Greatheart,  seeing  that,  runs  to  him  in  the  full  heat  of 
his  spirit,  and  pierceth  him  under  the  fifth  rib;  with  that  the 
giant  began  to  faint,  and  could  hold  up  his  club  no  longer. 
Tiien  Mr.  Greatheart  seconded  his  blow,. and  smote  the  head 
of  the  giant  from  his  shoulders. 

Then  the  women  and  children  rejqjlced,  and  Mr.  Greatheart 
also  praised  God  for  the  deliverance  he  had  wrought. 


244  TALK  ABOUT   THE   FIGHT. 

When  this  was  done,  they  among  them  erected  a  pillar,  and 
fastened  the  giant's  head  thereon,  and  wrote  underneath,  in 
letters  that  passengers  might  read — 

''  He  that  did  wear  this  head  was  one 

That  pilgrims  did  misuse  ; 
He  stopp'd  their  way,  he  spared  none. 

But  did  them  all  abuse  : 
Until  that  I,  (xreatheart,  arose, 

The  pilgrims'  guide  to  be  ; 
Until  that  1  did  him  oppose, 

That  was  their  enemy." 

Now  I  saw  that  they  went  to  the  ascent  that  was,  a  little 
way  off,  cast  up  to  be  a  prospect  for  pilgrims  (that  was  the 
place  from  whence  Christian  had  the  first  view  of  Faithful  his 
brother).  Wherefore,  here  they  sat  down  and  rested ;  they 
also  here  did  eat  and  drink,  and  make  merry,  for  that  they 
had  gotten  deliverance  from  this  so  dangerous  an  enemy.  As 
they  sat  thus,  and  did  eat,  Christiana  asked  the  guide  if  he 
had  caught  no  hurt  in  the  battle.  Then  said  Mr.  Greatheart, 
"No,  save  a  little  on  my  flesh;  yet  that  also  shall  be  so  far 
from  being  to  my  detriment,  that  it  is  at  present  a  proof  of 
my  love  to  my  Master  and  you,  and  shall  be  a  means,  by 
grace,  to  increase  my  reward  at  last."     (2  Cor.  iv.) 

Chris.  Bat  was  you  not  afraid,  good  sir,  when  you  saw  him 
come  out  with  his  club  ? 

"It  is  my  duty,"  said  Greatheart,  "to  distrust  my  own 
ability,  that  I  may  have  reliance  on  Him  that  is  stronger  than 
all."  • 

Chris.  But  what  did  you  think  when  he  fetched  you  down 
to  the  ground  at  the  first  blow  ? 

"Why,  I  thought,"  quoth  he,  "that  so  m^^  Master  himself 
was  served,  and  yet  he  it  was  that  conquered  at  the  last." 

Matt,  When  you  all  have  thought  what  you  please,  I  think 
God  has  been  wonderful  good  to"  us,  both  in  bringing  us  out 
of  this  valley,  and  in  delivering  us  out  of  the  hand  of  this 


MISTAKES   WHICH   SAINTS   MAKE.  245 

enemy.  For  my  part,  I  see  no  reason  why  we  slijuld  distrust 
our  God  any  more,  since  he  has  now,  and  in  such  a  place  as 
this,  given  us  such  testimony  of  his  love  as  this. 

Then  they  got  up  and  went  forward.  Now  a  little  before 
the  n  stood  an  oak ;  and  under  it,  when  they  came  to  it,  they 
found  an  old  pilgrim  fast  asleep ;  they  knew  that  he  was  a 
pilgrim  by  his  clothes,  and  his  staff,  and  his  girdle. 

So  the  guide,  Mr.  Greatheart,  awaked  him,  and  the  old 
gentleman,  as  he  lift  up  his  eyes,  cried  out,  "  What's  the  mat- 
ter ?     Who  are  you  ?  and  what  is  your  business  here  ?  " 

Grbatheaht.  Come,  man,  be  not  so  hot,  here  are  none  but 
friends. 

Yet  the  old  man  gets  up,  and  stands  upon  his  guard,  and 
will  know  of  them  what  they  were.  Then  said  the  guide, 
*' My  name  is  Greatheart;  I  am  the  guide  of  these  pilgrims, 
which  are  going  to  the  Celestial  Country. 

Then  said  Mr.  Honest,  "  I  cry  you  mercy;  I  feared  that  you 
had  been  of  the  company  of  those  that  some  time  ago  did  rob 
Little-faith  of  his  money;  but  now  I  look  better  about  me,  I 
perceive  you  are  honester  people." 

Greatheart.  Why,  what  would  or  could  you  have  done  to 
have  helped  yourself,  if  we  indeed  had  b^en  of  that  com- 
pany ? 

Hon.  Done !  why,  I  would  have  fought  as  long  as  breath 
had  been  in  me ;  and  had  I  so  done,  I  am  sure  you  could  never 
have  given  me  the  worst  on  it ;  for  a  Christian  can  never  be 
overcome,  unless  he  should  yield  himself. 

"  Well  said,  father  Honest,"  quoth  the  guide;  "for  by  this 
I  know  thou  art  a  cock  of  the  right  kind,  for  thou  hast  said 
the  truth." 

Hon.  And  by  this,  also,  I  know  that  thou  knowest  what 
true  pilgrimage  is ;  for  all  others  do  think  that  we  are  the 
soonest  overcome  of  any. 

Greatheart.  Well,  now  we  are  so  happily  met,  pray  let  me 
crave  your  name,  and  the  name  of  the  place  you  came  from. 


246  WHENCE   MR.    HONEST   CAME. 

Hon.  My  name  I  cannot ;  But  I  came  from  the  town  of 
Stupidity;  it  lietli  about  four  degrees  beyond  the  City  of  De- 
struction. 

Greatheart.  Oh!  arc  you  that  countryman,  then  ?  I  deem 
I  have  half  a  guess  of  you  ;  your  name  is  Old  Honesty,  is  it  not  ? 

So  the  old  gentleman  blushed,  and.  said,  "Not  Honesty  in 
the  abstract,  but  Honest  is  my  name;  and.  I  wish  that  my  na- 
ture shall  agree  to  what  I  am  called." 

"But,  sir,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "how  could  you  guess 
that  I  am  su3h  a  man,  since  I  came  from  such  a  place  ? " 

Greatheart.  I  had  heard  of  you  before,  by  my  Master; 
for  he  knows  all  things  that  are  done  on  the  earth:  but  I  have 
often  wondered  that  any  should  come  from  your  place;  for 
your  town  is  worse  than  is  the  City  of  Destruction  itself. 

Hon.  Yes,  we  lie  more  off  from  the  sun,  and  so  are  more 
cold  and  senseless;  but  was  a  man  in  a  mountain  of  ice,  .yet if 
the  Sun  of  Righteousness  will  arise  upon  him,  his  frozen  heart 
shall  feel  a  thaw ;  and  thus  it  hath  been  with  me. 

Greatheart.  I  believe  it,  father  Honest,  I  believe  it ;  for  I 
know  the  thing  is  true. 

Then  tlie  old  gentleman  saluted  all  the  pilgrims  with  a 
holy  kiss  of  charity;  and  asked  them  of  their  names,  and  how 
they  had  fared  since  they  set  out  on  their  pilgrimage. 

Then  said  Christiana,  "My  name,  I  suppose,  you  have  heard 
of;  good  Christian  was  my  husband,  and  these  four  are  his 
children."  But  can  you  think  how  the  old  gentleman  was 
taken,  when  she  told  him  who  she  was  !  He  skipped,  he 
smiled,  and  blessed  them  with  a  thousand  good  wishes,  say- 
ing, "I  have  heard  much  of  your  husband,  and  of  his  travels 
and  wars,  which  he  underwent  in  his  days.  Be  it  spoken  to 
your  comfort,  the  name  of  your  husband  rings  over  all  these 
parts  of  the  world:  his  faith,  his  courage,  his  enduring,  and 
his  sincerity  under  all,  has  made  his  name  famous."  Then  he 
turned  him  to  the  boys,  and  asked  them  of  their  names,  which 
they  told  him.     And  then  said  he  unto  them,  "Matthew,  bo 


MR.    FEARIXG'S   CHARACTER.  247 

thou  like  Matthew  the  publican,  not  in  vice,  but  in  virtue. 
(Matt.  X.  3.)  Samuel,"  said  he,  "be  thou  like  Samuel  the 
prophet,  a  man  of  faith  and  prayer.  (Psa.  xcix.  6.)  Joseph," 
said  he,  "  be  thou  like  Joseph  in  Potiphar's  house,  chaste,  and 
one  that  flies  from,  temptation.  (Gen.  xxxix.)  And  James, 
be  thou  like  James  the  Just,  and  like  James  the  brother  of 
our  Lord."  (Acts  i.  13.)  Then  they  told  him  of  Mercy,  and 
how  she  had  left  her  town  and  her  kindred  to  come  along 
with  Christiana  and  her  sons.  At  that  the  old  honest  man 
said,  "Mercy  is  thy  name;  by  Mercy  shalt  thou  be  sustained, 
and  carried  through  all  those  difficulties  that  shall  assault 
thee  in  the  way,  till  thou  phalt  'come  thither  where  thou  shalt 
look  the  Fountain  of  Mercy  in  the  face  with  comfort." 

All  this  while,  the  guide,  Mr.  Greatheart,  was  very  much 
pleased,  and  smiled  upon  liis  companions. 

Now,  as  they  walked  along  together,  tlie  guide  asked  the 
old  gentleman  if  he  did  not  know  one  Mr.  Fearing,  that  came 
on  pilgrimage  out  of  his  parts. 

"Yes,  very  well,"  said  he;  "he  was  a  man  that  had  the 
root  of  the  matter  in  him;  but  he  was  one  of  the  most  trouble- 
some pilgrims  that  ever  I  met  with  in  all  my  days." 

Greatheaut.  I  perceive  you  knew  him ;  for  you  have  given 
a  very  righ^.  character  of  him . 

Hon.  Knew  him  !  I  was  a  great  companion  of  his;  I  was 
with  him  most  an  end :  when  he  first  began  to  think  of  what 
would  come  upon  us  hereafter,  I  was  with  him. 

Greatheart.  I  was  his  guide  from  my  master's  house  to 
the  gates  of  the  Celestial  City. 

Hon.  Then  you  knew  him  to  be  a  troublesome  one. 

Greatheat.  I  did  so,  but  I  could  very  well  bear  it;  for 
men  of  my  calling  are  oftentimes  intrusted  with  the  conduct 
of  such  as  lift  was. 

Hon.  Well,  then,  pray  let  us  hear  a  little  of  him,  and  how 
lie  managed  himself  under  your  conduct. 

Greatheart.  Why, he  was  always  afraid  that  he  should  come 


248  MR.    FEARING   AT   THE   GATE. 

short  of  whither  he  had  a-  desire  to  go.  Everything  fnghteiied 
him  that  he  heard  anybody  speak  of  that  had  but  the  least  ap- 
pearance of  opposition  in  it.  I  hear  that  he  lay  roaring  at  the 
Slough  of  Despond  for  about  a  month  together;  nor  durst  he, 
for  all  he  saw  several  go  over  before  him,  venture,  though 
they,  many  of  them,  offered  to  lend  him  their  hand.  He 
would  not  go  back  again,  neither.  The  Celestial  City,  he 
said,  he  should  die  if  he  came  not  to  it;  and  yet  was  dejected 
at  every  difficulty,  and  stumbled  at  every  straw  that  anybody 
cast  in  his  way.  Well,  after  he  had  lain  at  the  Slough  of  De- 
spond a  great  while,  as  I  have  told  you,  one  sunshine  morn- 
ing, I  do  not  know  how,  he  ventured,  and  so  got  over;  but 
when  he  was  over,  he  could  scarce  believe  it.  He  had,  I 
think,  a  Slough  of  Despond  in  his  mind :  a  slough  that  he 
carried  everywhere  with  him,  or  else  he  could  never  have  been 
as  he  was.  So  he  came  up  to  the  gate — you  know  what  I 
mean — that  stands  at  the  head  of  this  way;  and  there  also  he 
stood  a  good  while,  before  he  would  adventure  to  knock. 
When  the  gate  was  opened,  he  would  give  back,  and  give 
place  to  others,  and  say  that  he  was  not  worthy.  For,  for  all 
he  got  before  some  to  the  gate,  yet  many  of  them  went  in  be- 
fore him.  There  the  poor  man  would  stand,  shaking  and 
shrinking.  I  dare  say  it  would  have  pitied  one's  heart  to 
have  seen  him;  nor  would  he  go  back  again.  At  last,  he 
took  the  hammer  that  hanged  on  the  nail,  and  gave  a  small 
rap  or  two ;  then  one  opened  to  him,  but  he  shrank  back  as 
before.  He  that  opened  stepped  out  after  him,  and  said, 
* 'Thou  trembling  one,  what  wantest  thou?"  With  that  he 
fell  down  to  the  ground.  He  that  spoke  to  him  wondered  to 
see  him  so  faint.  So  he  said  to  him,  "Peace  be  to  thee;  up, 
fori  have  set  open  the  door  to  thee.  Come  in,  for  thou  art 
blessed."''  With  tliat  he  got  up,  and  went  in  trembling;  and 
when  he  was  in,  he  was  ashamed  to  show  his  face.  Well, 
after  he  had  been  entertained  there  awhile,  as  you  know  the 
manner  is,  he  was  bid  to  go  on  his  way,  and  also  told  the  way 


AT   THE   INTERPRETER'S   DOOR.  249 

he  should  take.  So  he  came  till  he  came  to  our  house.  But 
as  he  behaved  himself  at  the  gate,  so  he  did  at  my  master  the 
Interpreter's  door.  He  lay  thereabout  in  the  cold  a  good 
while,  before  he  would  adventure  to  call ;  yet  he  would  not 
go  back.  And  the  nights  were  long  and  cold  then.  Nay,  he 
had  a  note  of  necessity  in  his  bosom  to  my  master,  to  receive 
him  and  grant  him  the  comfort  of  his  house,  and  also  to  allow 
him  a  stout  and  valiant  conductor,  because  he  was  himself  so 
chicken-hearted  a  man ;  and  yet,  for  all  that,  he  was  afraid  to 
call  at  the  door.  So  he  lay  up  and  down  thereabouts,  till, 
poor  man !  he  was  almost  starved.  Yea,  so  great  was  his  de- 
jection, that  though  he  saw  several  others,  for  knocking,  get 
in,  yet  he  was  afraid  to  venture.  At  last,  I  think,  I  looked 
out  of  the  window,  and  perceiving  a  man  to  be  up  and  down 
about  tlic  door,  I  went  out  to  him,  and  asked  what  he  was; 
but,  poor  man!  the  water  stood  in  his  eyes;  so  I  perceived 
what  he  wanted.  I  went  therefore  in,  and  told  it  in  the 
house,  and  we  showed  the  thing  unto  our  Lord.  So  he  sent 
me  out  again,  to  entreat  him  to  come  in ;  but  I  dare  say  I  had 
hard  work  to  do  it.  At  last  he  came  in;  and  I  will  say  tluit 
for  my  Lord,  he  carried  it  wonderfully  lovingly  to  him. 
There  were  but  few  good  bits  at  the  table,  but  some  of  it  was 
laid  upon  hisjrencher.  Then  he  presented  the  note,  and  my 
Lord  looked  thereon,  and  said  his  desire  should  be  granted. 
So,  when  he  had  been  there  a  good  while,  he  seemed  to  get 
some  heart,  and  to  be  a  little  more  comfortable;  for  my 
master,  you  must  know,  is  one  of  very  tender  bowels,  espe- 
cially to  them  that  are  afraid;  wlierefore  he  carried  it  so  to- 
wards him  as  might  tend  most  to  his  encouragement.  Well, 
when  he  had  had  a  sight  of  the  things  of  the  place,  and  was 
ready  to  take  his  journey  to  go  to  the  city,  my  Lord,  as  he  did 
to  Christian  before,  gave  him  a  bottle  of  spirits,  and  some 
comfortable  things  to  eat.  Thus  we  set  forward,  and  I  went 
])efore  him ;  but  the  man  was  but  of  few  words,  only  he  would 
sigh  aloud. 


250  MR.    FEARING'S  HUMILITY. 

When  we  were  come  to  where  the  three  fellows  were  hang- 
ed, he  said  that  he  doubted  that  that  would  be  his  end  also. 
Only  he  seemed  glad  when  he  saw  the  Cross  and  the  Sepul- 
chre. There,  I  confess,  he  desired  to  stay  a  little  to  look,  and 
he  seemed,  for  a  while  after,  to  be  a  little  cheery.  When  we 
came  at  the  Hill  Difficulty,  he  made  no  stick  at  that,  nor  did 
he  much  fear  the  lions ;  for  you  must  know  that  his  trouble 
was  not  about  such  things  as  those :  his  fear  was  about  his  ac- 
ceptance at  last. 

I  got  him  in  at  the  House  Beautiful,  I  think,  before  he  was 
willing.  Also,  when  he  was  in,  I  brought  him  acquainted 
with  the  damsels  that  were  of  the  place;  but  he  was  ashamed 
to  make  himself  much  for  company.  He  desired  much  to  be 
alone,  yet  he  always  loved  good  talk,  and  often  would  get 
behind  the  screen  to  hear  it.  He  also  loved  much  to  see 
ancient  things,  and  to  be  pondering  them  in  his  mind.  He 
told  me  afterwards  that  he  loved  to  be  in  those  two  houses 
from  which  he  came  last,  to  wit,  at  the  gate,  and  that  of  the 
Interpreter,  but  that  he  durst  not  be  so  bold  to  ask. 

When  we  went  also  from  the  House  Beautiful,  down  the 
hill,  into  the  Valley  of  Humiliation,  he  went  down  as  well  as 
ever  I  saw  man  in  my  life ;  for  he  cared  not  how  mean  he  was, 
so  he  might  be  happy  at  last.  Yea,  I  think  there  was  a  kind 
of  a  sympathy  betwixt  that  valley  and  him;  for  I  never  saw 
him  better  in  all  his  pilgrimage  than  when  he  was  in  that 
valley. 

Here  he  would  lie  dov/n,  embrace  the  ground,  and  kiss  the 
very  flowers  that  grew  in  this  valley.  (Lam.  iii.  37-29.)  He 
would  now  be  up  every  morning  by  break  of  day,  tracing  and 
walking  to  and  fro  in  this  valley. 

But  when  he  was  come  to  the  entrance  of  the  Valley  of  the 
Shadow  of  Death,  I  thoi>ght  I  should  have  lost  my  man ;  not 
for  that  he  had  any  inclination  to  go  back;  that  he  always 
abhorred;  but  he  was  ready  to  die  for  fear..  "Oil!  the  hob- 
goblins will  have  me!  the  hobgoblins  will  have  me!"  cried 


HIS   BOLDNESS   AT   LAST.  251 

he;  and  I  could  not  beat  him  out  on  it.  He  made  such  a 
noise  and  such  an  outcry  here,  that,  had  they  but  heard  him, 
it  was  enough  to  encourage  them  to  come  and  fall  upon  us. 

But  this  I  took  very  great  notice  of,  that  this  valley  was  as 
quiet  while  he  went  through  it,  as  ever  I  knew  it  before  or 
since.  I  suppose  these  enemies  here  had  now  a  special  check 
from  our  Lord,  and  a  command  not  to  meddle  until  Mr.  Fear- 
ing was  passed  over  it. 

It  would  be  too  tedious  to  tell  you  of  all.  We  will,  there- 
fore, only  mention  a  passage  or  two  more.  When  he  was 
come  at  Vanity  Fair,  I  thought  he  would  have  fought  with 
all  the  men  at  the  fair,  I  feared'  there  we  should  both 
have  been  knocked  on  the  head,  so  hot  was  he  against  their 
fooleries.  Upon  the  Enchanted  Ground  he  was  also  very 
wakeful.  But  when  he  was  come  at  the  river,  where  was  no 
bridge,  tli^ere  again  he  was  in  a  heavy  case.  "  Now,  now," 
he  said,  ^' he  should  be  drowned  forever,  and  so  never  see 
that  face  with  comfort  that  he  had  come  so  many  miles  to  be- 
hold." 

And  here,  also,  I  took  notice  of  what  was  very  remarkable: 
the  water  of  that  river  was  lower  at  this  time  than  ever  I  saw 
it  in  all  my  life.  So  he  went  over  at  last,  not  much  above 
wet-shod.  When  he  was  going  up  to  the  gate,  Mr.  Greatheart 
began  to  take  his  leave  of  him,  and  to  wish  him  a  good  re- 
ception above.  So  he  said,  ''I  shall,  I  shall."  Then  parted 
we  asunder,  and  I  saw  him  no  more. 

Hon.  Then,  it  seems,  he  was  well  at  last. 
Greatheart.  Yes,  yes;  I  never  had  doubt  about  him;  he 
was  a  man  of  a  choice  spirit,  only  he  was  always  kept  ver^ 
low,  and  that  made  his  life  so  burdensome  to  himself,  and  so 
troublesome  to  others.  (Psa,  Ixxxviii.)  He  was,  above 
many,  tender  of  sin.  He  was  so  afraid  of  doing  injuries  to 
others,  that  he  often  would  deny  himself  of  that  which  was 
lawful,  because  lie  would  not  olBfend.  (Bom.  xiv.  21 ;  1  Cor. 
viii.  13.) 


252  MR.    FEARING'S  TROUBLERS. 

Hon.  But  what  should  be  the  reason  that  such  a  good  man 
should  be  all  his  days  so  much  in  the  dark  ? 

Greatheart.  There  are  two  sorts  of  reasons  for  it:  One 
is,  the  wise  God  will  have  it  so;  some  must  pipe  and  some 
must  weep.  (Matt.  xi.  16-18.)  Now  Mr.  Fearing  was  one 
that  played  upon  this  bass,  he  and  his  fellows  sound  the  sack 
but,  whose  notes  are  more  doleful  than  the  notes  of  other 
music  are;  though,  indeed,  some  say  the  bass  is  the  ground 
of  music.  And,  for  my  part,  I  care  not  at  all  for  that  profes- 
sion that  begins  not  in  heaviness  of  mind.  The  first  string 
that  the  musician  touches  is  the  bass,  when  he  intends  to  put 
all  in  tune.  God  also  plays  upon  this  string  first,  when  he  sets 
the  soul  in  tune  for  himself.  Only,  here  was  the  imperfection 
of  Mr.  Fearing,  he  could  play  upon  no  other  music  but  this, 
till  towards  his  latter  end. 

I  make  bold  to  talk  thus  metaphorically,  for  the  ripening 
of  the  wits  of  young  readers;  ttud  because,  in  the  Book  of  the 
Revelation,  the  saved  are  compared  to  a  company  of  musi- 
cians that  play  upon  their  trumpets  and  harps,  and  sing  their 
songs  before  the  throne.     (Rev.  v.  8;  xiv.  2,  3.) 

Hon.  He  was  a  very  zealous  man,  as  one  may  see  by  what 
relation  you  have  given  of  him ;  diflaculties,  lions,  or  Vanity 
Fair,  he  feared  not  at  all.  It  was  only  sin,  death,  and  hell 
that  was  to  him  a  terror,  because  he  had  some  doubts  about 
his  interest  in  that  celestial  country. 

Greatheart.  You  say  right.  Those  were  the  things  that 
were  his  troublers;  and  they,  as  you  have  well  observed, 
arose  from  the  weakness  of  his  mind  thereabout,  not  from 
weakness  of  spirit  as  to  the  practical  part  of  a  pilgrim's  life. 
I  dare  believe  that  (as  the  proverb  is)  "he  could  have  bit  a  fire- 
brand had  it  stood  in  his  way ;  "  but  the  things  with  which 
he  was  oppressed  no  man  ever  yet  could  shake  off  with  ease. 

Then  said  Christiana,  "This  relation  of  Mr.  Fearing  has 
done  me  good.  I  Jhought  nobody  had  been  like  me;  but  I 
see  there  was  some  semblance  betwixt  this  good  man  and  I; 


THE   FEAR   OF   GOD.  253 

only  we  differed  in  twd  things ;  his  troubles  were  so  great 
tliey  brake  out,  but  m  ne  I  kept  within.  His  also  lay  so  hard 
upon  him,  they  made  him  that  he  could  not  knock  at  the 
houses  provided  for  entertainment ;  but  my  trouble  was  al- 
ways such  as  made  me  knock  the  louder. '^ 

Mercy.  If  I  might  also  speak  my  heart,  I  must  say  that 
something  of  him  has  also  dwelt  in  me ;  lor  I  have  ever  been 
more  afraid  of  the  lake  and  the  loss  of  a  place  in  Paradise, 
than  I  have  been  of  the  loss  of  other  things.  Oh,  thought  I, 
may  I  have  the  happiness  to  have  a  habitation  there,  it  is 
enough,  though  I  part  with  all  the  world  to  win  it! 

Then  said  Matthew,  "Fear  was  one  tiling  that  made  me 
think  that  I  was  far  from  having  that  within  me  that  accom- 
panies salvation  ;  but  if  it  was  so  with  such  a  good  man  as 
he,  why  may  it  not  also  go  well  with  me  ? " 

"  No  fears,  no  grace,"  said  James.  ''  Though  there  is  not 
always  grace  where  there  is  the  fear  of  hell ;  yet,  to  be  sure, 
there  is  no  grace  where  there  is  no  fear  of  God." 

Greatheart.  Well  said,  James;  thou  hast  hit  the  mark; 
for  "  the  fear  of  God  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom;  "  and,  to  be 
sure,  they  that  want  the  beginning  have  neither  middle  nor 
end.  But  we  will  here  conclude  our  discourse  of  Mr.  Fear- 
ing, after  we  have  sent  after  him  this  farewell: 

"  Well,  Master  Fearing,  thou  didst  fear 
Thy  God,  and  wast  afraid 
Of  dohig  anything,  while  here, 
That  would  have  thee  betrayed, 

*'  And  didst  thou  fear  the  lake  and  pit  ? 
Would  others  did  so  too  ! 
For  as  for  them  that  want  thy  wit. 
They  do  themselves  undo." 

Now  I  saw  that  they  still  went  on  in  their  talk ;  for  after 
Mr.  Greatheart  had  made  an  end  with  Mr.  Fearing,  Mr.  Honest 
began  to  to  tell  them  of  another,  but  his  name  was  Mr.  Self- 
will.     *'  He  pretended  himself  to  be  a  pilgrim,"  said  Mr.  Hon- 


254  SELF-WILL'S   OPINIONS. 

est;  "but  I  persuade  myself  he  nevef  came  in  at  the  gate  that 
stands  at  the  head  of  the  way." 

Greatheart.   Had  you  ever  any  talk  with  him  about  it  ? 

Hon.  Yes,  more  than  once  or  twice ;  but  he  would  always 
be  like  himself,  self-willed.  He  neither  cared  for  man,  nor 
argument,  nor  yet  example ;  what  his  mind  prompted  him  to, 
that  he  would  do,  and  nothing  else  could  he  be  got  to  do. 

Greatheart.  Pray,  what  principles  did  he  hold  ?  for  I  sup- 
pose you  can  tell. 

Hon.  He  held  that  a  man  might  follow  the  vices  as  well  as 
the  virtues  of  the  pilgrims;  and  that  if  he  did  both,  he  should 
be  certainly  saved. 

Greatheart.  How  ?  if  he  had  said,  it  is  possible  for  the 
best  to  be  guilty  of  the  vices,  as  well  as  to  partake  of  the  vir- 
tues, of  pilgrims,  he  could  not  much  have  been  blamed;  for, 
indeed,  we  are  exempted  from  no  vice  absolutely,  but  on  con- 
dition that  we  watch  and  strive.  But' this,  I  perceive,  is  not 
the  thing ;  but  if  I  understand  you  right,  your  meaning  is  that 
he  was  of  that  opinion  that  it  was  allowable  so  to  be. 

Hon.  Ay,  ay,  so  I  mean ;  and  so  he  believed  and  practised. 

Greatheart.  But  what  ground  had  he  for  his  so  saying  ? 

Hon.  Why,  he  said  he  had  the  Scripture  for  his  warrant. 

Greatheakt.  Prithee,  Mr.  Honest,  present  us  with  a  few 
particulars. 

Hon.  So  I  will.  He  said  to  have  to  do  with  other  men's 
wives  had  been  practised  by  David,  God's  beloved ;  and  there- 
fore he  CO  lid  do  it.  He  said  to  have  more  women  than  one 
was  a  thing  that  Solomon  practised;  and  therefore  he  could 
do  it.  He  said  that  Sarah  and  the  godly  midwives  of  Egypt 
lied,  and  so  did  save  Rahab;  and  therefore  he  could  do  it. 
He  said  that  the  disciples  went  at  the  bidding  of  their  Master, 
and  took  away  the  owner's  ass ;  and  therefore  he  could  do  so 
too.  "He  said  that  Jacob  got  the  inheritance  of  his  father 
in  the  way  of  guile  aud  dissimulation;  and  therefore  he 
could  do  so  too. 


SELF-WILL'S   OPINIONS.  255 

GREATnEABT.  Highly  base,  indeed !  And  you  are  sure  he 
"Was  of  this  opinion  ? 

Hon.  I  have  heard  him  plead  for  it,  bring  Scripture  for  it, 
bring  argameilt  for  it,  etc. 

Greatheart.  An  opinion  that  is  not  nt  to  be  with  any  al- 
lowance in  the  world. 

Hon.  You  must  understand  me  rightly.  He  did  not  say 
that  any  man  might  do  this;  but  those  that  had  the  virtues  of 
those  that  did  such  things  might  also  do  the  same. 

Greatheart.  But  what  more  false  than  such  a  conclusion  ? 
For  this  is  as  much  as  to  say,  that  because  good  men  hereto- 
fore have  sinned  of  infirmity,  therefore  he  had  allowance  to 
do  it  of  a  presumptuous  mind ;  or  if,  because  a  child  by  the 
blast  of  the  wind,  or  for  that  it  stumbled  at  a  stone,  fell  down, 
and  defiled  itself  in  mire,  therefore  he  might  wilfully  lie 
down,  and  wallow  like  a  boar  therein.  Who  could  have 
thought  that  any  one  could  so  far  have  been  blinded  by  the 
power  of  lust?  But  wliat  is  written  must  be  true:  they 
*' stumble  at  the  word,  being  disobedient;  whereunto  also 
they  were  appointed."     (1  Pet.  ii.  8.) 

His  supposing  that  such  may  have  the  godly  men's  virtues, 
who  addict  themselves  to  their  vices,  is  also  a  delusion  as 
strong  as  the  oth^r.  It  is  just  as  if  the  dog  should  say  I  have, 
or  may  have,  the  qualities  of  the  child,  because  I  lick  up  its 
stinking  excrements.  To  eat  up  the  sin  of  God's  people  is 
no  sign  of  one  that  is  possessed  of  their  virtues.  (Hosea  Iv. 
8.)  Nor  can  I  believe  that  one  that  is  of  this  opinion  can  at 
present  have  faith  or  love  in  him.  But  I  know  you  have  made 
strong  objections  against  him ;  prithee,  what  can  he  say  for 
himself  ?     • 

Hon.  Why,  he  says,  "  To  do  this  by  way  of  opinion  seems 
abundance  more  honest  than  to  do  it  and  yet  hold  contrary  to 
it  in  opinion." 

Greatheart.  A  very  wicked  answer;  for  though  to  let 
loose  the  bridle  to  lusts,  while  our  opinions  arc  against  such 


256  FAULTS   OF  PILGRIMS. 

tilings,  is  bad ;  yet  to  sin,  and  plead  a  toleration  so  to  do,  is 
worse.  The  one  stumbles  beliolders  accidentally,  the  other 
pleads  them  into  the  snare. 

.  Hon.  There  are  many  of  this  man's  mind,  that  have  not 
this  man's  mouth  ;  and  that  makes  going  on  pilgrimage  of  so 
little  esteem  as  it  is. 

Greatheart.  You  have  said  the  truth,  and  it  is  to  be  la- 
mented ;  but  he  that  feareth  the  King  of  Paradise  shall  come 
out  of  them  all. 

Chris.  Tliere  are  strange  opinions  in  the  world ;  I  know 
one  that  said,  it  was  time  enough  to  repent  when  they  come 
to  die. 

Greatheart.  Such  are  not  over  wise.  That  man  would 
have  been  loath,  might  he  have  had  a  week  to  run  twenty 
miles  in  for  his  life,  to  have  deferred  that  journey  to  the  last 
hour  of  that  week. 

Hon.  You  say  right ;  and  yet  the  generality  of  them  that 
count  themselves  pilgrims  do  indeed  do  thus.  I  am,  as  you 
see,  an  old  man,  and  have  been  a  traveller  in  this  road 
many  a  day ;  and  I  have  taken  notice  of  many  things. 

I  have  seen  some  that  have  set  out  as  if  they  would  drive 
all  the  world  afore  them,  who  yet  have,  in  few  days,  died  as 
they  in  the  wilderness,  and  so  never  got  sight  of  the  promised 
land. 

I  have  seen  some  that  have  promised  nothing  at  first  setting 
out  to  be  pilgrims,  and  that  one  would  have  thought  could 
not  have  lived  a  day,  that  have  yet  proved  very  good  pil- 
grims. 

I  have  seen  some  who  have  run  hastily  forward,  that  again 
have,  after  a  little  time,  run  just  as  fast  back  again. 

I  have  seen  some  who  have  spoken  very  well  of  a  pilgrim's 
life  at  first,  that,  after  a  while,  have  spoken  as  much  against  it. 

I  have  heard  some,  when  they  first  set  out  for  Paradise,  say, 
positively,  there  is  such  a  place,  who,  wlien  they  have  been 
almost  there,  have  come  back  again,  and  said  there  is  none. 


V:  :,s^^;;r\ 


THE  PILGRIMS   DESIRE   AN  INN.  257 

I  have  heard  some  vaunt  what  they  would  do,  in  case  they 
should  be  opposed,  that  have,  even  at  a  false  alarm,  fled  faith, 
the  pilgrim's  way,  and  all. 

Now,  as  they  were  thus  in  their  way,  there  came  one  run* 
ning  to  meet  them,  and  said,  *' Gentlemen,  and  you  of  the 
weaker  sort,  if  you  love  life,  shift  for  yourselves,  for  the  rob- 
bers are  before  you." 

Then  said  Mr.  Greathcart,  *'  They  be  the  Ihr  20  that  set  npon 
Little-faith  heretofore.  Well,"  said  he,  ''we  are  ready  for 
them;"  so  tliey  went  on  their  way.  Now  they  looked  at 
every  turning,  when  they  should  have  met  with  the  villains; 
but  whether  they  heard  of  Mr.  Greatheart,  or  whether  they 
had  some  other  game,  they  came  not  up  to  the  pilgrims. 

Christiana  then  wished  for  an  inn  for  herself  and  her  chil- 
dren, because  they  were  weary.  Then  said  Mr.  Honest, 
"There  is  one  a  little  way  before  us,  where  a  very  honour- 
able disciple,  one  Gains,  dwells."  (Rom.  xvi.  23.)  So  they 
all  concluded  to  turn  in  thither,  and  the  rather,  because  the 
old  gentleman  gave  him  so  good  a  report.  So,  when  they 
came  to  the  door,  they  went  in,  not  knocking,  for  folks  used 
not  to  knock  at  the  door  of  an  inn.  Then  they  called  for  the 
master  of  the  house,  and  he  came  to  them.  So  they  asked  if 
they  might  lie  there  that  night. 

Gaius.  Yes,  gentlemen,  if  ye  be  true  men ;  for  my  house  is 
for  none  but  pilgrims.  Then  was  Christiana,  Mercy,  and  the 
boys  the  more  glad,  for  that  the  innkeeper  was  a  lover  of 
pilgrims.  So  they  called  for  rooms,  and  he  showed  them  one 
for  Christiana  and  her  children  and  Mercy,  and  another  for 
Mr.  Greatheart  and  the  old  gentleman. 

Then  said  Mr.  Greatheart,  "Good  Gaius,  what  hast  thou 
for  supper  ?  for  these  pilgrims  have  come  far  to-day,  and  are 
weary." 

"It  is  late,"  said  Gains,  "so  we  cannot  conveniently  go 
out  to  seek  food ;  but  such  as  we  have  you  shall  be  welcome 
to,  if  that  will  content." 

P.  r.-9. 


258  CHRISTIAN'S  ANCESTORS. 

Greatheart.  We  wiH  be  content  with  what  thou  hast  i?^ 
the  house,  forasmuch  as  I  have  proved  thee;  thou  art  never 
destitute  of  that  which  is  convenient. 

Then  he  went  down  and  spaKC  to  the  cook,  whose  name 
Was  Taste-that-which-is-good,  to  get  ready  supper  for  so  many 
pilgrims.  This  done,  he  comes  up  again,  saying,  "Come, 
my  good  friends,  you  are  welcome  to  me,  and  I  am  glad  that 
I  have  a.house  to  entertain  you ;  and  while  supper  is  making 
ready,  if  you  please,  let  us  entertain  one  another  with  some 
good  discourse."     So  they  all  said,  "  Content." 

Then  said  Gains,  "  Whose  wife  is  this  aged  matron?  and 
whose  daughter  is  this  young  damsel  ?  " 

Greatiieart.  The  woman  is  the  wife  of  one  Christian,  of 
former  times;  and  these  are  his  four^ children.  The  maid  is 
one  of  her  acquaintance ;  one  that  she  hath  persuaded  to  come 
with  her  on  pilgrimage.  The  boys  take  all  after  their  father, 
and  covet  to  tread  in  his  steps ;  yea,  if  they  do  but  see  any 
place  where  the  old  pilgrim  hath  lain,  or  any  print  of  his  foot, 
it  ministereth  joy  to  their  hearts,  and  they  covet  to  lie  or 
tread  in  the  same. 

Then  said  Gains,  ''Is  this  Christian's  wife  ?  and  are  these 
Christian's  children  ?  I  knew  your  husband's  father,  yea, 
also  his  father's  father.  Many  have  been  good  of  this  stock ; 
their  ancestors  dwelt  first  at  Antioch.  (Acts  xi.  26.)  Chris- 
tian's progenitors  (I  suppose  you  have  heard  your  husband 
talk  of  them)  were  very  worthy  men.  They  have,  above  any 
that  I  know,  showed  themselves  men  of  great  virtue  and 
courage,  for  the  Lord  of  the  pilgrims,  his  ways,  and  them  that 
loved  him.  I  have  heard  of  many  of  your  husband's  relations 
that  have  stood  all  trials  for  the  sake  of  the  truth.  Stephen, 
that  was  one  of  the  first  of  the  family  from  whence  your  hus- 
band sprang,  was  knocked  on  tlie  head  with  stones.  (Acts  vii. 
59,  60.)  James,  another  of.  this  generation,  was  slain  with 
the  edge  of  the  sword.  (Acts  xii.  2.)  To  say  nothing  of 
Paul  and  Peter,  men  anciently  of  the  family  from  whence 


A  MATCH   CONCLUDED.  259 

your  husband  came,  there  was  Ignatius,''*  who  was  cast 
to  the  lions;  Romanus,  whose  flesh  was  cut  by  pieces  from 
his  bones;  and  Polycarp,  that  ployed  the  man  in  the  fire. 
There  was  he  that  hanged  up  in  a  basket  in  the  sun,  for 
the  wasps  to  eat;  and  he  whom  they  put  into  a  sack,  and 
cast  him  into  the  sea  to  be  drowned.  It  would  be  utterly  im- 
possible to  count  up  all  of  that  family  that  have  suffered  in- 
juries and  death,  for  the  love  of  a  pilgrim's  life.  Nor  can  I 
but  be  glad  to  see  that  thy  husband  has  left  behind  him  four 
such  boys  as  these.  I  hope  they  will  bear  up  their  father's 
name,  and  tread  in  their  father's  steps,  and  come  to  their 
father's  end." 

Greatheart.  Indeed,  sir,  they  are  likely  lads;  they  seem 
to  choose  heartily  their  father's  ways 

Gaius.  That  is  it  that  I  said.  Wherefore  Christian's  family 
is  like  still  to  spread  abroad  upon  the  face  of  the  ground,  and 
yet  to  be  numerous  upon  the  face  of  the  earth;  wherefore  let 
Christiana  look  out  some  damsels  for  her  sons,  to  whom  they 
may  be  bethrothed,  etc.,  that  the  name  of  their  father  and  the 
house  of  his  progenitors  may  never  be  forgotten  in  the 
world. 

Hon.  It  is  a  pity  this  family  should  fall  and  be  extinct. 

Gaius.  Fall  it  cannot,  but  be  diminished  it  may;  but  let 
Christiana  take  my  advice,  and  that  is  the  way  to  uphold  it. 

"And,  Christiana,"  said  this  innkeeper,  "I  am  glad  to  see 
thee  and  thy  friend  Mer  y  together  here,  a  lovely  couple. 
And,  may  I  advise,  take  Mercy  into  a  nearer  relation  to  thee; 
it  she  will,  let  her  be  given  to  Matthew,  thy  eldest  son;  it  is 
the  way  to  preserve  you  a  posterity  in  the  earth."  So  this 
match  was  concluded,  and  in  the  process  of  time  they  were 
married  ;  but  more  of  that  hereafter. 

Gaius  also  proceeded,  and  said,  "I  will  now  speak  on  the 
behalf  of  women,  to  take  away  their  rei)roach.  For  as  death 
and  the  curse  came  into  the  world  by  a  woman  (Gen.  iii.),  so 
*0f  Antioch. 


260  SUPPER  RExiDY. 

also  did  life  and  health ;  ^  God  sent  forth  his  Son,  made  of  a 
woman.'  (Gal.  iv.  4.)  Yea,  to  show  how  much  those  that 
came  after  did  abhor  the  act  of  the  mother,  this  sex,  in  the 
Old  Testament,  coveted  children,  if  happily  this  or  that  wo- 
man might  be  the  mother  of  the  Saviour  of  the  world. 

*'  I  will  say  again,  that  when  the  Saviour  was  come,  women 
rejoiced  in  him  before  either  man  or  angel.  (Luke  ii.)  I 
read  not  that  ever  any  man  did  give  unto  Christ  as  much  as 
one  groat;  but  the  women  followed  him,  and  ministered  to 
him  of  tlioir  substance.  (Luke  viii.  2,  3.)  Tt  was  a  woman 
that  washed  his  feet  with  tears,  and  a  woman  that  anoint- 
ed his  body  to  the  burial.  (Luke  vii.  37-50 ;  John  xi.  2 ;  xii.  3.) 
They  were  women  that  wept  when  he  was  going  to  the  cross, 
an^  women  that  followed  him  from  the  cross,  and  that  sat  by 
his  sepulchre  when  he  was  buried,  (Luke  xxiii.  27 ;  Matt. 
xxvii.  55,  50,  61.)  They  were  women  that  were  first  with  him 
at  his  resurrection-morn;  and  women  that  brought  tidings 
first  to  his  disciples  that  he  was  risen  from  the  dead.  (Luke 
xxiv.  22,  23.)  Women,  therefore,  are  highly  favoured,  and 
show  by  these  things  that  they  are  sharers  with  us  in  the 
grace  of  life." 

Now  the  cook  sent  up  to  signify  that  supper  was  almost 
ready,  and  sent  one  to  lay  thecioth,  the  trenchers,  and  to  set 
the  salt  and  bread  in  order. 

Then  said  Matthew,  "  The  sight  of  this  cloth,  and  of  this 
forerunner  of  the  supper,  begetteth  in  me  a  greater  appetite 
to  my  food  than  I  had  before." 

Gaius.  So  let  all  ministering  doctrines  to  thee,  in  this  life, 
beget  in  thee  a  greater  desire  to  sit  at  the  supper  of  the  great 
King  in  his  kingdom ;  for  all  preaching,  books,  and  ordinan- 
ces here  are  but  as  the  laying  of  the  trenchers,  and  as  setting 
of  salt  upon  the  board,  when  compared  with  the  feast  that 
our  Lord  will  make  for  us  when  we  come  to  his  house. 

So  supper  came  up ;  and  first,  a  heave-shoulder  and  a  wave- 
breast  (Lev.  vii.  32-34 ;  x.  14,  15)  were  set  on  the  table  before 


A  DISH   OF  APPLES.  261 

them,  to  show  that  they  must  begin  their  meal  with  prayer 
and  praise  to  God.  (Psa.  xxv.  1;  Heb.  xiii.  15.)  The  heave- 
shoulder  David  lifted  his  heart  up  to  God  with;  and  with  the 
wave-breast,  where  his  heart  lay,  with  that  he  used  to  lean 
upon  his  harp  when  he  played.  Tliese  two  dishes  were  very 
fresh  and  good,  and  they  all  ate  heartily  well  thereof. 

The  next  they  brought  up  was  a  bottle  of  wine,  red  as  blood. 
(Deut.  xxxii.  14.)  So  Gains  said  to  them,  "Drink  freely; 
this  is  the  juice  of  the  true  Vine,  that  makes  glad  the  heart  of 
God  and  man."  (Judges  ix.  18;  John  xv.  1.)  So  they  drank 
and  were  merry. 

The  next  was  a  dish  of  milk  well  crumbed ;  but  Gains  said, 
"Let  the  boys  have  that,  that  they  may  grow  thereby.  "(1  Pet. 
ii.  1,  2.) 

Then  they  brought  up  in  course  a  dish  of  butter  and  honey. 
Then  said  Gains,  Eat  freely  of  this ;  for  this  is  good  to  cheer 
up,  and  strengthen  your  judgment  and  understandings.  This 
was  our  Lord's  dish  when  he  was  a  child:  'Butter  and  honey 
shall  he  eat,  that  he  may  know  to  refuse  the  evil  and  choose 
the  good.'"     (Isa.  vii.  15.) 

Then  they  brought  them  up  a  dish  of  apples,  and  they  were 
very  good  tasted  fruit.  Then  said  Matthew,  "May  we  eat 
apples,  since  they  were  such  *by  and  with  which  the  serpent 
beguiled  our  first  mother  ?  " 

Then  said  Gains — 

**  Apples  were  they  with  which  we  were  beguiled  ; 
Yet  sin,  not  apples,  hath  our  souls  defiled. 
Apples  forbid,  if  ate,  corrupt  the  blood  ; 
To  eat  such,  when  commanded,  does  us  good. 
Drink  of  his  flafi^ons,  then,  thou  church,  his  dove, 
And  eat  his  apples,  who  are  sick  of  love." 

Then  said  Matthew,  "I  made  the  scruple,  because  I  a  while 
since  was  sick  with  eating  of  fruit." 

Gaius.  Forbidden  fruit  will  make  you  sick,  but  not  what 
our  Lord  has  tolerated. 


262  A  RIDDLE. 

While  they  were  thus  talking,  they  were  presented  with 
another  dish,  and  it  was  a  dish  of  nuts.  (Solomon's  Song 
vi.  11.) 

Then  said  some  at  the  table,  ''Nuts  spoil  tender  teeth,  es- 
pecially the  teeth  of  children ;  "  which,  when  Gains  heard, 
he  said — 

**Hard  texts  are  nuts  (I  will  not  call  them  cheaters), 
Whose  shells  do  keep  their  kernels  from  the  eaters. 
Ppe  then  the  shells,  and  you  shall  have  the  meat ; 
They  here  are  brought  for  yoii  to  crack  and  eat." 

Then  were  they  very  merry,  and  sat  at  the  table  along  time, 
talking  of  many  things.  Then  said  the  old  gentleman,  "My 
good  landlord,  while  we  are  cracking  your  nuts,  if  you  please, 
do  you  open  this  riddle : — 

"  '  A  man  there  was,  though  some  did  count  him  mad. 
The  more  he  cast  away,  the  more  he  had.'  " 

Then  they  all  gave  good  heed,  wondering  what  good  Gains 
would  say ;  so  he  sat  still  awhile,  and  then  thus  replied : — 

*'  He  that  bestows  his  goods  upon  the  poor 
Shall  have  as  much  again,  and  ten  times  more. " 

Then  said  Joseph,  "I  dare  say,  sir,  I  did  not  think  you 
could  have  found  it." 

"Oh!  "  said  Gains,  "  I  have  been  trained  up  in  this  way  a 
great  while:  nothing  teaches  like  experience.  I  have  learned 
of  my  Lord  to  be  kind;  and  have  found  by  experience  that  I 
have  gained  thereby.  *  There  is  that  scattereth,  and  yet  increas- 
eth,  and  there  is  that  withholdeth  more  than  is  meet;  but  it 
tendeth  to  poverty.  There  is  that  maketh  himself  rich,  yet 
hath  nothing;  there  is  that  maketh  himself  poor,  yet  hath 
great  riches.'  "     (Prov.  xi.  24;  xiii.  7.) 

Then  Samuel  whispered  to  Christiana,  his  mother,  and  said, 
"Mother,  this  is  a  very  good  man's  house,  let  us  stay  here  a 


GRACE   MUST   CONQUER.  263 

good  while,  and  let  my  brother  Matthew  be  married  here  to 
Mercy  before  we  go  any  further." 

The  which  Gains  the  host  overhearing  said,  ''With  a  very 
good  will,  my  child." 

So  they  stayed  there  more  than  a  month,  and  Mercy  was 
given  to  Matthew  to  wife. 

While  they  stayed  here,  Mercy,  as  her  custom  was,  would 
be  making  coats  and  garments  to  give  to  the  poor,  by  which 
she  brought  up  a  very  good  report  upon  the  pilgrims. 

But  to  return  again  to  our  story.  After  supper,  the  lads  de- 
sired a  bed,  for  that  they  were  weary  with  travelling:  then 
Gaius  called  to  show  them  their  chamber;  but  said' Mercy, 
"I  will  have  them  to  bed."  So  she  had  them  to  bed,  and  they 
slept  well;  but  the  rest  sat  up  all  night;  for  Gaius  and  they 
were  such  suitable  company,  that  they  could  not  tell  how  to 
part.  Then  after  much  talk  of  their  Lord,  themselves,  and 
their  journey,  old  Mr.  Honest,  he  that  put  forth  the  riddle  to 
Gaius,  began  to  nod.  Then  said  Greatheart,  "What,  sir!  you 
begin  to  be  drowsy!  come,  rub  up;  now  here  is  a  riddle  for 
you."     Then  said  Mr.  Honest,  "Let  us  hear  it." 

Then  said  Mr.  Greatheart, — 

*'  He  that  will  kill  must  first  he  overcome, 

Who  live  abroad  would,  first  must  die  at  home." 

*' Ha!  "said  Mr.  Honest,  ''it  is  a  hard  one,  hard  to  ex- 
pound, and  harder  to  practise.  But  come,  landlord,"  said  he, 
*'I  wili,  if  you  please,  leave  my  part  to  you;  do  you  expound 
it,  and  I  will  hear  what  you  say." 

"No,"  said  Gaius,  "it  was  put  to  you,  and  it  is  expected 
that  you  should  answer  it." 

Then  said  the  old  gentleman, — 

"  He  first  by  grace  must  conquered  be, 
That  sin  would  mortify  ; 
And  who,  that  lives,  would  convince  me. 
Unto  himself  must  die." 


264      '        A  QUESTION   WORTH  ANSWERING. 

''It  is  right,"  said  Gaius,  ''good  doctrine  and  experience 
teaches  this.  For,  first,  until  grace  displays  itself,  and  over- 
comes the  soul  with  its  glory,  it  is  altogether  without  heart 
to  oppose  sin ;  besides,  if  sin  is  Satan's  cords,  by  which  the 
soul  lies  bound,  how  should  it  make  resistance  before  it  is 
loosed  from  that  infirmity  ? 

"  Secondly,  nor  will  any,  that  knows  either  reason  or  grace, 
believe  that  such  a  man  can  be  a  living  monument  of  grace 
that  is  a  slave  to  his  own  corruptions. 

"  And  now  it  comes  in  my  mind,  Twill  tell  you  a  story 
worth  the  hearing.  There  were  two  men  that  went  on  pil- 
grimage :  the  one  began  when  he  was  young,  the  other  when 
he  was  old.  The  young  man  had  strong  corruptions  to  grap- 
ple with;  the  old  man's  were  decayed  with  the  decays  of  na- 
ture. The  young  man  trod  his  steps  as  even  as  did  the  old 
one,  and  was  every  way  as  light  as  he.  Who  now,  or  which 
of  them,  i)ad  their  graces  shining  clearest,  since  both  seemed 
to  be  alike  ?  " 

Hon.  The  young  man's,  doubtless.  For  that  which  heads 
it  against  the  greatest  opposition  gives  best  demonstration 
that  it  is  strongest;  especially  when  it  also  holdeth  pace  with 
that  that  meets  not  with  half  so  much ;  as,  to  be  sure,  old  age 
does'not.  Besides  I  have  observed  that  old  men  have  blessed 
themselves  with  this  mistake,  namely,  taking  the^  decays  of 
nature  for  a  gracious  conquest  over  corruptions,  and  so  have 
been  apt  to  beguile  themselves.  Indeed,  old  men  that  are 
gracious  are  best  able  to  give  advice  to  them  that  are  young, 
because  they  have  seen  most  of  the  emptiuess  of  things.  But 
yet,'  for  an  old  and  a  young  [man]  to  set  out  together,  the 
young  one  has  the  advantage  of  the  fairest  discovery  of  a 
work  of  grace  within  him,  though  the  old  man's  corruptions 
are  naturally  the  weakest. 

Thus  they  sat  talking  till  break  of  day.  Now.  when  the  fam- 
ily was  up,  Christiana  bid  her  son  James  that  he  should  read 
a  chapter;  so  he  read  the  fifty-third  of  Isaiah.     When  he  had 


ANOTHER   QUESTION.  2G5 

done,  Mr.  Honest  asked  why  it  was  said  that  the  Saviour  is  to 
come  "out  of  a  dry  ground ;  "  and  also,  that  "he  had  no 
form  or  comeliness  in  him." 

Then  said  Mr  Greatheart,  ' '  To  the  first  I  answer,  Because 
the  church  of  the  Jew^s,  of  which  Christ  came,  had  then  lost 
all  the  sap  and  spirit  of  religion.  To  the  second  I  say,  The 
w^ords  are  spoken  in  the  person  of  the  unbelievers,  who,  be- 
cause they  want  that  can  see  into  our  Prince's  heart,  therefore 
they  judge  pf  him  by  the  meanness  of  his  outside.  Just  like  • 
those  that  know  not  that  precious  stones  are  covered  over  with 
a  homely  crust  ;  who,  when  they  have  found  one,  because 
they  know  not  what  they  have  found,  cast  it  again  away,  as 
men  do  a  common  stone." 

"Well,"  said  Gains,  "now  you  are  here,  and  since,  as  I 
know,  Mr  Greatheart  is  good  at  his  weapons,  if  you  please, 
after  we  have  refreshed  ourselves,  we  will  w^alk  into  the  fields, 
to  see  if  we  can  do  any  good.  About  a  mile  from  hence 
there  is  one  Slay-good,  a  giant  that  does  much  annoy  the 
King's  highway  in  these  parts  ;  and  I  know  whereabout  his 
haunt  is.  He  is  master  of  a  number  of  thieves.  It  would 
be  well  if  we  could  clear  these  parts  of  him." 

So  they  consented,  and  v/ent,  Mr.  Greatheart  with  his  sword, 
helmet,  and  shield,  and  the  rest  with  spears  and  staves. 

AYhen  they  came  to  the  place  where  he  was,  they  found  him 
with  one  Feeble-mind  in  his  hands,  v/hom  his  servants  had 
brought  unto  liim,  having  taken  him  in  the  way.  Now  the 
giant  was  rifling  him,  with  a  purpose,  after  that,  to  pick  his 
bones,  for  he  was  of  the  nature  of  flesh-eaters. 

Well,  so  soon  as  he  saw  Mr.  Greatheart  and  his  friends  at 
the  mouth  of  his  cave,  with  their  weapons,  he  demanded 
what  they  wanted. 

Greatheart.  We  want  thee  ;  for  we  are  come  to  revenge 
the  quarrel  of  tlie  many  that  thou  hast  slain  of  the  pilgrims, 
when  thou  hast  dragged  them  out  of  the  Kmg's  highway  ; 
wherefore,  come  out  of  thy  cave. 


266  DEATH   OF   SLAY-GOOD. 

So  he  armed  himself  and  came  out  ;  and  to  a  battle  they 
went,  and  fought  for  above  an  hour,  and  then  stood  still  to 
take  ^ind. 

Then  said  the  giant,  "  Why  are  you  here  on  my  ground  ? " 

Greatheart.  To  revenge  the  blood  of  pilgrims,  as  I  also 
told  thee  before. 

So  they  went  to  it  again,  and  the  giant  made  Mr.  Greatheart 
give  back  ;  but  he  came  up  again,  and  in  the  greatness  of  his 
'mind,  he  let  fly  with  such  stoutness  at  the  giant'g  head  and 
sides,  that  he  made  him  let  his  weapon  fall  out  of  his  hand  ; 
so  he  smote  him,  and  slew  him,  and  cut  off  his  head,  and 
brought  it  away  to  the  inn.  He  also  took  'Feeble-mind,  the 
pilgrim,  and  brought  him  with  him  to  his  lodgings.  When 
they  were  come  home,  they  showed  his  head  to  the  family, 
and  then  set  it  up,  as  they  had  done  others  before,  for  a  terror 
to  those  that  should  attempt  to  do  as  he  hereafter. 

Then  they  asked  Mr  Feeble-mind  how  he  fell  into  his  hands. 

Then  said  the  poor  man,  ''I  am  a  sickly  man,  as  you  see  ; 
and  because  death  did  usually  once  a  day  knock  at  my  door, 
I  thought  I  should  never  be  well  at  home  ;  so  I  betook  myself 
to  a  pilgrim's  life,  and  have  travelled  hither  from  the  town 
of  Uncertain,  where  I  and  my  father  were  born.  I  am  a  man 
of  no  strength  at  all  of  body,  nor  yet  of  mind  ;  but  w^ould,  if 
I  could,  though  I  can  but  crawl,  spend  my  life  in  the  pilgrim's 
way.  When  I  came  at  the  gate  that  is  at  the  head  of  the  way, 
the  Lord  of  that  pi  e  did  entertain  me  freely  ;  neither  ob- 
jected he  against  my  weakly  looks,  nor  against  my  feeble 
mind  ;  but  gave  me  such  things  that  were  necessary  for  my 
journey,  and  bid  me  hope  to  the  end.  When  I  came  to  the 
house  of  the  Interpreter,  I  received  much  kindness  there  ;  and 
because  th  Hill  Difficulty  was  judged  too  hard  for  me,  I  was 
carried  up  that  by  one  of  his  servants.  Indeed,  I  have  found 
much  relief  from  pilgrims,  though  none  are  willing  to  go  so 
softly  as  I  am  forced  to  do  ;  yet  still,  as  they  came  on,  they 
bid  me  be  of  good  cheer,  and  said  that  it  was  the  will  of  their 


MR.    FEEBLE-MIND'S   EXPERIENX'E.  237 

Lord  that  comfort  should  bo  given  to  the  feeble-minded,  and 
so  went  on  their  own  pace.  (1  Thess.  v.  14.)  When  I  was 
come  up  to  Assault  Lane,  then  this  giant  met  with  me,  and 
bid  me  prepare  for  an  encounter ;  but,  alas  !  feeble  one  that  I 
was,  I  had  more  need  of  a  cordial.  So  he  came  up  and  took 
me.  I  conceited  he  would  not  kill  me.  Also,  when  he  had 
got  me  into  his  den,  since  I  went  not  with  him  willingly,  I 
believed  I  should  come  out  alive  egain  ;  for  I  have  heard  that 
not  any  pilgrim  that  is  taken  captive  by  violent  hands,  if  he 
keep  heart  Vvholc  towards  his  Master,  is,  by  the  laws  of  Provi- 
dence, to  die  by  the  hand  of  the  enemy.  Robbed  I  looked  to 
be,  and  robbed  to  be  sure  I  am;  but  I  am,  as  you  see,  escaped 
with  life;  for  the  which  I  thank  my  King  as  author,  and  you 
as  the  means.  Other  brunts  I  also  look  for;  but  this  I  have 
resolved  on,  to  wit,  to  run  when  I  can,  to  go  when  I  cannot 
run,  and  to  creep  when  I  cannot  go.  As  to  the  main,  I  thank 
Him  that  loves  me,  I  am  fixed.  My  way  is  before  me,  m»y 
mind  is  beyond  the  river  that  has  no  bridge,  though  I  am,  as 
»yousee,  but  of  a  feeble  mind.'' 

Then  said  old  Mr.  Honest,  '^  Have  you  not,  some  time  ago, 
been  acquainted  with  one  Mr.  Fearing,  a  pilgrim  ? " 

Feeble.  Acquainted  with  him  !  Yes ;  he  came  from  the 
town  of  Stupidity,  which  lieth  four  degrees  to  the  northward 
of  the  City  of  Destruction,  and  as  many  off  of  where  I  was 
born;  yet  we  were  well  acquainted,  for,  indeed,  he  was  my 
uncle,  my  father's  brother.  He  and  I  have  been  much  of  a 
temper.  He  was  a  little  shorter  than  I,  but  yet  we  were  much 
of  a  complexion. 

Hon.  1  perceive  you  know  him  ;  and  am  apt  to  believe,  also, 
that  you  were  related  to  one  another;  for  you  have  his  whitely 
look,  a  cast  like  his  with  your  eye,  and  your  speech  is  much 
alike. 

Feeble.  Most  have  said  so  that  have  known  us  both;  and, 
besides,  what  I  have  read  in  him,  I  have,  for  the  most  part, 
found  in  myself. 


268  MR.    NOT-RIGHT   SLAIN. 

"Come,  sir,"  said  good  Gains,  "  be  of  good  cheer;  you  are 
welcome  to  me  and  to  my  house,  and  what  thou  hast  a  mind 
to,  call  for  freely;  and  what  thou  wouldest  have  my  servants 
do  for  thee,  they  will  do  it  with  a  ready  mind." 
"  Then  said  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  "This  is  unexpected  favour, 
and  as  the  sun  shining  out  of  a  very  dark  cloud.  Did  Giant 
Slay- good  intend  me  this  favour  when  he  stopped  me,  and  re- 
solved to  let  me  go  no  further  ?  Did  he  intend  that,  after  he 
had  rifled  my  pockets,  I  should  go  to  Gains,  mine  host  ?  Yet, 
so  it  is." 

Now,  just  as  Mr.  Feeble-mind  and  Gains  were  thus  in  talk, 
there  came  one  running,  and  called  at  the  door,  and  told  that, 
about  a  mile  and  a  half  off,  there  was  one  Mr.  Not-right,  a 
pilgrim,  struck  dead  upon  the  place  where  he  was  with  a 
thunder-bolt. 

"Alas!  "  said  Mr.  Feebk-mind,  "is  he  slain  ?  He  over- 
took me  some  days  before  I  came  so  far  as  liither,  and  would 
be  my  company-keeper.  He  also  was  with  me  when  Slay- 
good,  the  giant,  took  me;  but  he  was  nimble  of  his  heels, 
and  escaped.  But,  it  seems,  he  escaped  to  die,  and  I  was 
took  to  live.  .  y 

"  '  What,  one  would  think,  doth  seek  to  slay  outright, 
Ofttimes  delivers  from  the  saddest  plight  ; 
That  very  providence,  whose  face  is  death, 
Doth  ofttimes  to  the  lowly  life  bequeath. 
I  taken  was,  lie  did  escape  and  flee  ; 
Hands  cross'd  gives  death  to  him,  and  life  to  me.*  " 

Now  about  this  time  Matthew  and  Mercy  were  married. 

Also  Gains  gave  his  daughter  Phoebe  to  James,   Matthew's 

^\brother,  to  wife;  after  which  time  they  yet  stayed  above  t*en 

days  at  Gains'  house,   spending  their  time,  and  the  seasons, 

like  as  pilgrims  used  to  do. 

When  they  were  to  depart,  Gains  made  them  a  feast,  and 
they  did  eat  and  drink,  and  were  merry.  Now  the  hour  was 
come  that  they  must  be  gone ;  wherefore  Mr.  Greatheart  called 


THE   PARTING   WITH   GAIUS.  269 

for  a  reckonini; ;  but  Gains  told  him  that  at  his  house  it  was 
not  the  custom  for  pilgrims  to  pay  for  their  entertainment. 
He  boarded  them  by  the  year,  but  looked  for  his  pay  from  the 
good  Samaritan,  who  had  promised  him,  at  his  return,  what- 
soever charge  he  was  at  with  them  faithfully  to  repay  him. 
(Luke  X.  33-35.)  Then  said  Mr.  Greatheart  to  him,  "Belov- 
ed, thou  dost  faithfully  whatsoever  thou  dost  to  tlie  brethren, 
and  to  strangers;  which  have  borne  witness  of  thy  charity 
before  the  church ;  whom  if  thou  (yet)  bring  forward  on  their 
journey  after  a  godly  sort,  thou  shalt  do  well."     (3  John  5,  6.) 

Tiien  Gaius  took  his  leave  of  them  all,  and  of  his  children, 
and  particularly  of  Mr.  Feeble-mind.  He  also  gave  him  some- 
thing to  drink  by  the  way. 

Now  Mr  Fceblc-mind,  when  they  were  going  out  of  the 
door,  made  as  if  he  intended  to  linger:  the  which  when  Mr. 
Greatlieart  espied,  he  said,  "Come,  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  pray 
do  you  go  along  with  us ;  I  will  be  your  conductor,  and  you 
shall  fare  as  the  rest.'^ 

Feeble.  Alas  !  I  want  a  suitable  companion ;  you  are  all 
lusty  and  strong;  but  I,  as  you  see,  am  weak;  I  choose,  there- 
fore, rather  to  come  behind,  lest,  by  reason  of  my  many  in- 
firmities, I  should  be  both  a  burden  to  myself  and  to  you. 
I  am,  as  I  said,  a  man  of  a  weak  and  feel)le  mind,  and  shall 
be  offended  and  made  weak  at  that  which  others  can  bear.  I 
shall  like  no  laughing;  I  shall  like  no  gay  attire;  I  shall  like 
no  unprofitable  questions.  Nay,  I  am  so  weak  a  man  as  to  be 
offended  with  that  which  others  have  a  liberty  to  do.  I  do 
not  yet  know  all  the  truth.  I  am  a  very  ignorant  Christian 
man  ;  sometimes  if  I  hear  some  rejoice  in  the  Lord,  it  troubles 
me  because  I  cannot  do  so  too.  It  is  with  me  as  it  is  with  a 
weak  man  among  th&  strong,  or  as  with  a  sick  man  among 
the  healthy,  or  as  a  lamp  despised.  "  He  that  is  ready  to  slip 
with  his  feet  is  as  a  lamp  despised  in  the  thought  of  him  that 
is  at  ease  (Jobxii.  5) :  "  so  that  I  know  not  what  to  do. 

"But,   brother,''  said  Mr.  Greatheart,  "I  have  it  in  com- 


270  FEEBLE-MIND  AND   READY-TO-HALT. 

mission  to  *  comfort*  the  feeble-minded,'  and  to  'support  the 
weak.'  (1  Thess.  v.  14.)  You  must  needs  go  along  with  us; 
we  will  wait  for  you ;  we  will  lend  you  our  help  (Rom.  xiv.  1)  ; 
we  will  deny  ourselves  of  some  things,  both  opinionative  and 
practical,  for  your  sake  (1  Cor.  viii. ) ;  we  will  not  enter  into 
doubtful  disputations  before  you;  we  will  be  made  all  things 
to  you,  rather  than  you  shall  be  left  behind."     (1  Cor.  ix.  22.) 

Now  all  this  while  they  were  at  Gains'  door;  and  behold, 
as  they  were  thus  in  the  heat  of  their  discourse,  Mr.  Ready-to- 
halt  came  by,  with  his  crutches  *  in  his  hand  (Psa.  xxxviii. 
17),  and  he  also  was  going  on  pilgrimage. 

Then  said  Mr.  Feeble-mind  to  him,  ''Man,  how  camcst 
thou  hither  ?  I  was  but  just  now  conplaining  that  I  had  not  a 
suitable  companion,  but  thou  art  according  to  my  wish.  "Wel- 
come, welcome,  good  Mr.  Ready-to-halt;  I  hope  thee  and  I 
may  be  some  help." 

''  I  shall  be  glad  of  thy  company,"  said  the  other;  "  and, 
good  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  rather  than  we  will  part,  since  we  are 
thus  happily  met,  I  will  lend  thee  one  of  my  crutches." 

"Nay,"  said  he,  "  though  T  thank  thee  for  thy  good-will,  I 
am  not  inclined  to  halt  before  I  am  lame.  Howbeit,  I  think, 
when  occasion  is,  it  may  help  me  against  a  dog." 

Ready.  If  either  myself  or  my  crutches  can  do  thee  a  pleas- 
ure, we  are  both  at  thy  command,  good  Mr.  Feeble-mind. 

Thus,  therefore,  they  went  on:  Mr.  Greatheart  and  Mr. 
Honest  went  before,  Christiana  and  her  children  went  next, 
and  Mr.  Feeble-mind  and  Mr.  Ready-to-halt  came  behind 
with  his  crutches. 

Then  said  Mr.  Honest,  "Pray,  sir,  now  we  are  upon  the 
road,  tell  us  some  profitable  things  of  some  that  have  gone 
on  pilgrimage  before  us." 

Greatheart.  With  a  good  will.  I  suppose  you  have  heard 
how  Christian  of  old  did  meet  with  ApoUyon  in  the  Valley 
of  Humiliation;  and  also  what  hard  work  he  had  to  go 
*  Promises. 


NEW  TALK.  271 

through  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death.  Also  I  think  you 
cannot  but  have  heard  how  Faithful  was  put  to  it  with  Madam 
Wanton,  with  Adam  the  First,  with  one  Discontent  and 
Shame,  four  as  deceitful  villains  as  a  man  can  meet  with  upon 
the  road. 

Hon.  Yes,  I  have  heard  of  all  this;  but,  indeed,  good 
Faithful  was  hardest  put  to  it  witli  Shame;  he  was  an  un- 
wearied one. 

Greatheaet.  Ay ;  for,  as  the  pilgrim  well  said,  he  of  all 
men  had  the  wrong  name. 

Hon.  But  pray,  sir,  wliere  was  it  that  Christian  and  Faith- 
ful met  Talkative  ?     Ths.t  same  was  also  a  notable  one. 

Greatheart.  He  was  a  confident  fool,  yet  many  follow  his 
ways. 

Hon.  He  had  liked  to  have  beguiled  Faithful. 

Greatheart.  Ay ;  but  Christian  put  him  into  a  way  quickly 
to  find  him  out.  Thus  they  went  on  till  they  came  at  the 
place  where  Evangelist  met  with.  Christian  and  Faithful,  and 
prophesied  to  them  of  what  should  befall  them  at  Vanity 
Fair. 

Then  said  their  guide,  "  Hereabouts  did  Christian  and  Faith- 
ful meet  with  Evangelist,  who  prophesied  to  them  of  what 
troubles  they  should  meet  with  at  Vanity  Fair." 

Hon.  Say  you  so  ?  I  dare  say  it  was  a  hard  chapter  that 
then  he  did  read  unto  them. 

Greatheart.  It  was  so ;  but  he  gave  them  encouragement 
withal.  But  what  do  we  talk  of  them  ?  they  were  a  couple 
of  lion-like  men ;  they  had  set  their  faces  like  flint.  Don't 
you  remember  how  undaunted  they  were  when  they  stood  be- 
fore the  judge  ? 

Hon.  Well,  Faithful  bravely  suffered. 

Greatheart.  So  he  did,  and  as  brave  things  came  on  it ; 
for  Hopeful  and  some  others,  as  the  story  relates  it,  were  con- 
verted by  his  death. 

Hon.  Well,  but  pray  go  on;  for  you  are  weir  acquainted 
with  things. 


272  MR.    MNASON. 

Greatheabt.  Above  all  that  Christian  met  after  he  had 
passed  through  Vanity  Fair-,  one  By-ends  was  the  arch  one. 

Hon.  By-ends!     Wliat  Avas  he  ? 

Greatheart.  a  very  arch  fellow ;  a  downright  hypVocrite. 
One  that  would  be  religious,  which  way  ever  the  world  went; 
but  so  cunning  that  lie  would  be  sure  neither  to  lose  nor  suffer 
for  it.  He  had  his  mode  of  religion  for  every  fresh  occasion; 
and  his  wife  was  as  good  at  it  as  he.  Ho  would  turn  and 
change  from  opinion  to  opinion ;  yea,  and  plead  for  so  doing, 
too.  But,  so  far  as  I  could  learn,  he  came  to  an  ill  end  with 
his  by-ends;  nor  did  I  ever  hear  that  any  of  his  children  were 
ever  of  any  esteem  with  any  that  truly  feared  God. 

Now  by  this  time  they  were  come  within  sight  of  the  town 
of  Vanity,  where  Vanity  Fair  is  kept.  So,  when  they  saw 
that  they  were  so  near  the  town,  they  consulted  with  one  an- 
other how  they  should  pass  through  the  town ;  and  some  said 
ona  thing,  and  some  another.  At  last  Mr.  Greatheart  said,  ''I 
have,  as  you  may  understand,  often  been  a  conductor  of  pil- 
grims through  this  town ;  now  I  am  acquainted  with  one  Mr. 
Mnason,  a  Cyprusian  by  nation,  an  old  disciple,  at  whose 
house  we  may  lodge.  (Acts  xxi.  16.)  If  you  think  good," 
said  he,  ''we  will  turn  in  there." 

''Content,"  said  old  Honest;  "Content,"  said  Christiana; 
"Content,"  said  Mr.  Feeble-mind;  and  so  they  said  all. 
Now,  you  must  think,  it  was  even-tide  by  that  they  got  to  the 
outside  of  the  town ;  but  Mr.  Greatheart  knew  the  way  to  the 
old  man's  house.  So  thither  they  came;  and  he  called  at  the 
door,  and  the  old  man  within  knew  his  tongue  as  soon  as  ever 
he  heard  it;  so  he  opened,  and  they  all  came  in.  Then  said 
Mnason,  their  host,  "How  far  have  ye  come  to-day  ?"  So 
they  said,  ' ' From  the  house  of  Gains,  our  friend. "  "I  prom- 
ise you,"  said  he,  "you  have  gone  a  good  stretch,  you  may 
well  be  a-weary ;  sit  down. "     So  they  sat  down. 

Then  said  their  guide,  "Come,  what  cheerj  sirs?  I  dare 
say  you  are  welcome  to  my  friend." 


A  HARBOUR  AND  GOOD  COMPANY.      273 

"I  also,'' said  Mr.  Mnason,  "do  bid  you  welcome,  and, 
whatever  you  want,  do  but  say,  and  we  will  do  what  we  can 
to  get  it  for  you." 

Hon.  Our  great  want,  a  while  since,  was  harbour  and  good 
company,  and  now  I  hope  we  have  both. 

Mnason.  For  harbour,  you  see  what  it  is;  but  for  good 
company,  tliat  will  appear  in  the  trial. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Greatheart,  "will  you  have  the  pilgrims  up 
into  their  lodging  ? " 

"I  will,"  said  Mr.  Mnason.  So  he  had  them  to  their  re- 
spective places;  and  also  showed  them  a  very  fair  dining- 
room,  where  they  might  be,  and  sup  together,  until  ^time  was 
come  to  go  to  rest. 

Now,  when  they  were  set  in  tlieir  places,  and  were  a  little 
cheery  after  their  journey,  Mr.  Honest  asked  his  landlord  if 
there  were  any  store  of  good  people  in  the  town. 

Mnason.  Wc  have  a  few,  for  indeed  they  are  but  a  few, 
when  compared  with  them  on  the  other  side. 

Hon.  But  how  shall  we  do  to  see  some  of  them  ?  for  the 
sight  of  good  men  to  them  that  are  going  on  pilgrimage  is 
like  to  the  appearing  of  the  moon  and  the  stars  to  them  that 
are  sailing  upon  the  seas. 

Tiien  Mr.  Mnason  stamped  with  his  foot,  and  his  daughter 
Grace  came  up;  so  he  said  unto  her,  "  Grace,  go  you,  tell  my 
friends,  Mr.  Contrite,  Mr.  Holy-man,  Mr.  Love-saint,  Mr.  Dare- 
not-lie,  and  Mr.  Penitent,  that  I  have  a  friend  or  two  at  my 
house  that  have  a  mind  this  evening  to  see  them." 

So  Grace  went  to  call  them,  and  they  came ;  and,  after  salu- 
tation made,  they  sat  down  together  at  the  table. 

Then  said  Mr.  Mnason,  their  landlord,  "My  neighbours,  I 
have,  as  you  see,  a  company  of  strangers  come  to  my  house; 
they  are  pilgrims;  they  come  from  afar,  and  are  going  to 
Mount  Zion.  But  who,"  quoth  he,  "  do  you  think  this  is  ?  " 
pointing  with  his  finger  to  Christiana;  "  it  is  Christiana,  the  • 
wife  of  Christian,  that  famous  pilgrim,  who  with  Faithful  his 


274       PERSECUTION  NOT  SO  HOT  AS  FORMERLY. 

brother,  were  so  shamefully  handled  in  our  town."  At  that 
they  stood  amazed,  saying,  "We  little  thought  to  see  Chris- 
tiana, when  Grace  came  to  callus;  wherefore  this  is  a  very 
comfortable  surprise."  Then  they  asked  her  of  her  welfare, 
and  if  these  young  men  were  her  husband's  sons.  And  when 
she  had  told  them  they  were,  they  said,  "The  King  whom 
you  love  and  serve,  make  you  as  your  -father,  and  bring  you 
where  he  is  in  peace !  " 

Then  Mr.  Honest  (when  they  were  all  sat  down)  asked  Mr. 
Contrite  and  the  rest,  in  what  posture  their  town  was  at  pres- 
ent. 

Contrite.  You  may  be  sure  we  are  full  of  hurry  in  fair- 
time.  It  is  hard  keeping  our  heart  and.  spirits  in  any  good 
order  when  we  are  in  a  cumbered  condition.  He  that  lives ^ 
in  such  a  place  as  this  is,  and  that  has  to  do  with  such  as  we 
have,  has  need  of  an  item,  to  caution  him  to  take  heed, 
every  moment  of  the  day. 

Hon.  But  how  are  your  neighbours  for  quietness? 

Contrite.  They  are  much  more  moderate  now  than  for- 
merly. You  know  how  Christian  and  Faithful  were  used  in 
our  town ;  but  of  late,  I  say,  they  have  been  far  more  moder- 
ate. I  think  the  blood  of  Faithful  lieth  with  load  upon  them 
till  now;  for  since  they  burned  him,  they  have  been  ashamed 
to  burn  any  .more.  In  those  days  we  were  afraid  to  walk  the 
streets,  but  now  we  can  show  our  heads.  Then  the  name  of 
a  professor  was  odious ;  now,  especially  in  some  parts  of  our 
town  (for  you  know  our  town  is  large),  religion  is  counted 
honourable. 

Then  said  Mr.  Contrite  to  them,  "Pray,  how  fareth  it  with 
you  in  your  pilgrimage  ?  How  stands  the  country  affected  to- 
wards you  ?  " 

Hon.  It  happens  to  us  as  it  happeueth  to  wayfaring  men: 
sometimes  our  way  is  clean,  sometimes  foul;  sometimes  up 
"hill,  sometimes  down  hill;  we  arc  seldom  at  a  certainty;  the 
wind  is  not  always  on-our  backs,  nor  is  every  one  a  friend  that 


MR.    GREATHEART'S   ACCOUNT.  275 

I 
Tre  meet  with  in  the  way.     We  have  met  with  some  notable 
rubs  already;  and  what  are  yet  behind  we  know  not;  but,  for 
the  most  part,  we  find  it  true  that  has  been  talked  of   of  old, 
*' A  good  man  must  suffer  trouble." 

Contrite.  You  talk- of  rubs;  what  rubs  have  you  met 
withal  ? 

Hon.  Nay,  ask  Mr.  Greatheart,  our  guide,  for  he  can  give 
the  best  account  of  that. 

Greatheart.  We  have  been  beset  three  or  four  times  already. 
First,  Christiana  and  her  children  were  beset  with  two  ruffians, 
that  they  feared  would  take  away  their  lives.  We  were  beset 
by  Giant  Bloodyman,  Giant  Maul,  and  Giant  Slay-good.  -In- 
deed, we  did  rather  beset  the  last,  than  were  beset  of  him. 
And  thus  it  was:  after  we  had  been  some  time  at  the  house  of 
*'  Gains,  mine  host,  and  of  the  whole  church,"  we  were  mind- 
ed upon  a  time  to  take  our  weapons  with  us,  and  so  go  see  if 
we  could  light  upon  any  of  those  that  were  enemies  to  pil- 
grims (for  we  heard  that  there  was  a  notable  one  thereabouts). 
Now  Gains  knew  his  haunt  better  than  I,  because  he  dwelt 
thereabout;  so  we  looked,  and  looked,  till  at  last  we  discerned 
the  mouth  of  his  cave:  then  we  were  glad,  and  plucked  up 
our  spirits.  So  we  approached  up  to  his  den,  and  lo,  when  we 
came  tliere,  he  had  dragged,  by  mere  force,  into  his  net,  this 
poor  man,  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  and  was  about  to  bring  him  to 
his  end.  But  when  he  saw  us,  supposing,  as  we  thought,  he 
had  had  another  prey,  he  left  the  poor  man  in  his  hole,  and 
came  out.  So  we  fell  to  it  full  sore,  and  he  lustily  laid  about 
him :  but  in  conclusion,  he  was  brought  down  to  the  ground, 
■and  his  head  cut  off,  and  set  up  by  the  way-side,  for  a  terror 
to  such  as  should  after  practise  such  ungodlinesr.  That  I  tell 
you  the  truth,  here  is  the  man  himself  to  affirm  it,  who  was 
as  a  lamb  taken  out  of  the  mouth  of  the  lion. 

Then  said  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  "I  found  this  true,  to  my  cost 
and  comfort;  to  my  cost,  when  he  threatened  to  pick  mj 
bones  every  moment;  and  to  my  comfort,  when  I  saw  Mr. 


276  A  MONSTER. 

Greartheart  and  his  friends,  with  their  weapons,  approach  so 
near  for  my  deliverance." 

Then  said  Mr.  Holy-man,  ''There  are  two  things  that  they 
have  need  to  be  possessed  with  that  go  on  pilgrimage :  cour- 
age and  an  unspotted  life.  If  they  have  not  courage,  they 
can  never  hold  their  way;  and  if  their  lives  be  loose,  they 
will  make  the  very  name  of  a  pilgrim  stink." 
,  Then  said  Mr.  Love-saint,  "I  hope  this  caution  is  not  need- 
ful amongst  you.  But  truly,  there  are  many  that  go  upon  the 
road,  that  rather  declare  themselves  strangers  to  pilgrimage 
than  strangers  and  pilgrims  in  the  earth." 

Then  said  Mr.  Dare-not-lie,  "It  is  true,  they  neither  have 
the  pilgrim's  weed  nor  the  pilgrim's  courage;  they  go  not  up- 
rightly, but  all  awry  with  their  feet;  one  shoe  goes  inward, 
another  outward,  and  their  hoscnout  behind  ;  there  a  rag  and 
there  a  rent,  to  the  disparagement  of  their  Lord." 

"These  tiling,"  said  Mr.  Penitent,  "they  ought  to  be  trou- 
bled for;  nor  are  the  pilgrims  like  to  have  that  grace  put  upon 
them  and  their  pilgrim's  progress  as  they  desire,  until  the  way 
is  cleared  of  such  spots  and  blemislies." 

Thus  they  sat  talking  and  spending  the  time,  until  supper 
was  set  upon  the  table;  unto  wliich  they  went  and  refreshed 
their  weary  bodies;  so  they  went  to  rest.  Now  they  stayed 
in  this  fair  a  great  while  at  the  house  of  this  Mr.  Mnason, 
who,  in  the  process  of  time,  gave  his  daughter  Grace  unto 
Samuel,  Christiana's  son,  to  wife,  and  his  daughter  Martha  to 
Joseph. 

The  time,  as  I  said,  that  they  lay  here  was  long  (for  it  was 
not  now  as  in  former  times).  Wherefore,  the  pilgrims  grew 
acquainted  with  many  of  the  good  people  of  the  town,  and 
did  them  what  service  they  could.  Mercy,  as  she  was  wont, 
laboured  much  for  the  poor ;  wherefore  their  bellies  and  backs 
blessed  her,  and  she  was  there  an  ornament  to  her  profession. 
And,   to   say  the  truth  for  Grace,  Phoebe,  and  Martha,  they 


HOW  THE  MONSTER  WAS  TREATED.     277 

placed.  They  were  also  all  of  them  very  fruitful ;  so  that  Chris- 
tiana's name,  as  was  said  before,  was  like  to  live  in  the  world. 

While  they  lay  here,  there  came  a  monster  out  of  the  woods, 
and  slew  many  of  the  people  of  the  town.  It  would  also  carry 
away  their  children,  and  teach  them  to  suck  its  whelps.  Now 
no  man  in  the  town  durst  so  much  as  face  this  monster;  but 
all  men  fled  when  they  heard  of  the  noise  of  his  coming. 

The  monster  was  like  unto  no  one  beast  upon  the  earth ;  its 
body  was  like  a  dragon,  and  it  had  seven  heads  and  ten  horns. 
(Rev.  xvii.  3.)  It  made  great  havoc  of  children,  and  yet  it 
v/as  governed  by  a  woman.  This  monster  j)ropounded  con- 
ditions to  men ;  and  such  as  loved  their  lives  more  than  their 
souls  accepted  of  those  conditions.     So  they  came  under. 

Now  this  Mr.  Greathcart,  together  with  these  that  came  to 
visit  the  pilgrims  at  Mr.  Mnason's  house,  entered  into  a  cove- 
nant, to  go  and  engage  tliis  beast,  if  perhaps  they  might  de- 
liver the  people  of  this  town  from  the  paws  and  mouth  of  this 
so  devouring  a  serpent. 

Then  did  Mr.  Greatheart,  Mr.  Contrite,  Mr.  Holy-man,  Mr. 
Dare-not-lie,  and  Mr.  Penitent,  with  their  w(iipons,  go  forth 
to  meet  him.  Now  the  monster,  at  first,  was  very  rampant, 
and  looked  upon  these  enemies  with  great  disdain;  but  they 
so  belaboured  him,  being  sturdy  men  at  arms,  that  they  made 
him  make  a  retreat;  so  they  came  home  to  Mr.  Mnason's  house 
again. 

The  monster,  you  must  know,  had  his  certain  seasons  to  come 
out  in,  and  to  make  his  attempts  upon  the  children  of  the  people 
of  the  town ;  also  these  seasons  did  these  valiant  worthies  watch 
him  in,  and  did  still  continually  assault  him ;  insomuch  that 
in  process  of  time,  he  became  not  only  wounded,  but  lame; 
also  he  has  not  made  that  havoc  of  the  townsmen's  children, 
as  formerly  he  has  done.  And  it  is  verily  believed  by  some, 
that  this  beast  will  die  of  his  wounds. 

This,  therefore,  made  Mr.  Greatheart  and  his  fellows  of 
great  fame  in  this  town;  so  that  many  of    the  people  that 


278       THE   PLACE   OF   FAITHFUL'S   MARTYRDOM. 

wanted  tlieir  taste  of  things,  yet  had  a  reverent  esteem  and 
respect  for  them.  Upon  this  account,  therefore  it  was,  that 
these  pilgrims  got  not  much  hurt  here.  True,  there  were 
some  of  the  baser  sort,  that  could  see  no  more  than  a  mole, 
nor  understand  more  than  a  beast;  these  had  no  reverence 
for  these  men,  nor  took  they  notice  of  their  valour  or  adven- 
tures. 

Well,  the  time  grew  on  that  the  pilgrims  must  go  on  their 
way,  wherefore  they  prepared  for  their  journey.  They  sent 
for  their  friends;  they  conferred  with  them;  they  had  some 
time  set  apart,  therein  to  commit  each  other  to  the  protection 
of  their  Prince.  There  were  again,  that  brought  them  of  such 
things  as  they  had,  that  were  fit  for  the  weak  and  the  strong, 
for  the  women  and  the  men,  and  so  laded  them  with  such 
things  as  were  necessary.     (Acts  xxviii.  lOJ 

Then  they  set  forward  on  their  way ;  and  their  friends  ac- 
companying them  as  far  as  was  convenient,  they  again  com- 
mitted each  other  to  the  protection  of  their  King,  and  parted. 

They,  therefore,  that  were  of  the  pilgrims'  company,  went 
on,  and  Mr.  Gj-eatheart  went  before  them.  Now  the  women 
and  children  being  weakly,  they  were  forced  to  go  as  they 
could  bear;  by  this  means  Mr.  Ready-to-halt  and  Mr.  Feeble- 
mind  had  more  to  sympathize  with  their  condition. 

When  they  were  gone  from  the  townsmen,  and  when  their 
friends  had  bid  them  farewell,  they  quickly  came  to  the  place 
where  Faithful  was  put  to  death ;  there,  therefore,  they  made 
a  stand,  and  thanked  Him  that  had  enabled  him  to  bear  his 
cross  so  well ;  and  the  rather,  because  they  now  found  that 
they  had  a  benefit  by  such  a  manly  suffering  as  his  was. 

They  went  on,  therefore,  after  this,  a  good  way  further, 
talking  of  Christian  and  Faithful,  and  how  Hopeful  joined 
himself  to  Christian  after  that  Faithful  was  dead. 

Now  they  were  come  up  with  the  Hill  Lucre,  where  the 
silver- mine  was,  which  took  Demas  off  from  his  pilgrimage, 
and  into  which,  as  some  think,  By-ends  fell  and  perished; 


COTES  AND  FOLDS  FOR  SHEEP.       279 

wherefore  they  considered  that.  But  when  they  were  come 
to  the  old  monument  that  stood  over  against  the  Hill  Lucre, 
to  wit,  to  the  pillar  of  salt  that  stood  also  within  view  of 
Sodom  and  its  stinking  lake,  they  marvelled,  ai  did  Christian 
before,  that  men  of  that  knowledge  and  ripeness  of  wit,  as 
they  were,  should  be  so  blinded  as  to  turn  aside  here.  Only 
they  considered  again,  that  nature  is  not  affected  with  the 
harms  that  others  have  met  with,  especially  if  that  thing  upon 
which  they  look  has  an  attracting  virtue  upon  the  foolish 
eye. 

I  saw  now  that  they  went  on  till  they  came  at  the  river  that 
was  on  this  side  of  the  Delectable  Mountains — to  the  river 
where  the  fine  trees  grow  on  both  sides,  and  whose  leaves,  if 
taken  inwardly,  are  good  against  surfeits;  where  the  mea- 
dows are  green  all^  the  year  long,  and  where  they  might  lie 
down  safely.     (Psa.  xxiii.) 

By  this  river  side,  in  the  meadow,  tTiere  were  cotes  and  folds 
for  sheep,  a  house  built  for  the  nourishing  and  bringing  up 
those  lambs,  the  babes  of  those  women  that  go  on  pilgrimage. 
(Heb.  V.  2.)  Also  there  was  here  One  that  was  intrusted 
with  them,  who  could  have  compassion,  and  that  could 
gather  these  lambs  with  his  arm,  and  carry  them  in  his  bosom, 
and  that  could  gently  lead  those  that  were  with  young.  (Isa. 
xl.  11.)  Now  to  the  care  of  this  Man  Christiana  admonished 
her  four  daughters  to  commit  their  little  ones,  that  by  these 
waters  they  might  be  housed,  harboured,  succoured,  and  nour- 
ished, and  that  none  of  them  might  be  lacking  in  time  to  come. 
This  Man,  if  any  of  tham  go  astray,  or  be  lost,  he  will  bring 
them  again :  he  will  also  bind  up  that  which  was  broken,  and 
will  strengthen  them  which  are  sick.  (Ezek.  xxxiv.  11-16.) 
Here  they  will  never  want  meat  and  drink  and  clothing;  here 
they  will  be  kept  from  thieves  and  robbers;  for  this  Man  will 
die  before  one  of  those  committed  to  his  trust  shall  be  lost. 
(Jer.  xxiii.  4.)  Besides,  here  they  shall  be  sure  to  have  good 
nurture  and  admonition,  and  shall  be  taught  to  walk  in  right 


280  BY-PATH   STILE. 

paths,  and  that,  you  know,  is  a  favour  of  no  small  account. 
Also  here,  as  you  see,  are  delicate  waters,  pleasant  meadows, 
dainty  flowers,  variety  of  trees,  and  such  as  bear  wholesome 
fruit ;  fruit  not  like  that  that  Matthew  ate  of,  that  fell  over 
the  wall  out  of  Beelzebub's  garden;  but  fruit  that  procureth 
health  where  there  is  none,  and  that  continueth  and  increaseth 
it  where  it  is. 

So  they  were  content  to  commit  their  little  ones  to  him; 
and  that  which  was  also  an  eucouragement  to  them  so  to  do 
was,  for  that  all  this  was  to  be  at  the  charge  of  the  King,  and 
so  was  an  hospital  to  young  children  and  orphans. 

Now  they  went  on;  and  when  they  were  come  to  By-path 
Meadow,  to  the  stile  over  which  Christian  went  with  his  fel- 
low Hopeful,  when  they  were  taken  by  Giant  Despair,  and 
put  into  Doubting  Castle,  they  sat  down,  and  consulted  what 
was  best  to  be  done;  to  wit,  now  they  were  so  strong,  and  had 
got  such  a  man  as  Mr.  Greatheart  for  their  condacior,  whether 
they  had  not  best  to  make  an  attempt  upon  the  giant,  demol- 
ish his  castle,  and,  if  there  were  any  pilgrims  in  it,  to  set 
them  at  liberty,  before  they  v/ent  any  further.  So  one  said 
one  thing,  and  another  said  the  contrary.  One  questioned  if 
it  was  lawful  to  go  upon  unconsecrated  ground ;  another  said 
they  might,  provided  their  end  was  good ;  but  Mr.  Greatheart 
said,  '-Though  that  assertion  offered  last  cannot  be  universal- 
ly true,  yet  I  have  a  commandment  to  resist  sin,  to  overcome 
evil,  to  fight  the  good  fight  of  faith ;  and,  I  pray,  with  whom 
should  I  fight  this  good  fight,  if  not  with  Giant  Despair  ?  I 
will  therefore  attempt  the  taking  away  of  his  life,  and  the  de- 
molishing of  Doubting  Castle."  Then  said  he,  "  Who  will  go 
with  me  ?  "  Then  said  old  Honest,  ''I  will."  *'  And  so  will 
we  too,"  said  Christiana's  four  sons,  Matthew,  Samuel,  James, 
and  Joseph ;  for  they  were  young  men  and  strong.  (1  John 
iii.  13,  14.) 

So  they  left  the  women  in  the  road,  and  with  them  Mr. 
Feeble-mind  and  Mr.  Ready-to-halt,  with  his  crutches,  to  be 


DOUBTING   CASTLE   DEMOLISHED.  281 

their  guard,  until  they  came  back;  for  in  that  place,  though 
Giant  Despair  dwelt  so  near,  they  keeping  in  the  road,  a  lit- 
tle child  might  lead  them.     (Isa.  xi.  G.) 

So  Mr.  Greatheart,  old  Honest,  and  the  four  young  men 
went  to  go  up  to  Doubting  Castle,  to  look  for  Giant  Despair. 
When  they  came  at  the  castlc-gate,  they  knocked  for  entrance, 
with  an  unusual  noise.  At  that  the  old  giant  comes  to  th.^ 
gate,  and  Diffidence,  his  wife,  follows.  Then  said  he,  "  Y/iio 
and  what  is  he  that  is  so  hardy  as  after  this  manner  to  molest 
the  Giant  Despair  ?  "  Mr.  Greatheart  replied,  ''  It  is  I,  Great- 
heart,  one  of  the  King  of  the  Celestial  Country's  conductors 
of  pilgrims  to  their  place;  and  I  demand  of  thee  that  thou 
open  tliy  gates  for  my  entrance.  Prepare  thyself  also  to  fight,^«^ 
for  I  am  come  to  take  thy  head,  and  to  demolish  Doubting 
Castle.'* 

Now  Giant  Despair,  because  he  was  a  giant,  thought  that 
no  man  could  overcome  him;  ^md  again,  thought  he,  '*  Since 
heretofore  I  have  made  a  conquest  of  angels,  shall  Greatheart 
make  me  afraid  ?  "  So  he  harnessed  himself,  and  went  out. 
He  had  a  cap  of  steel  upon  his  head,  a  breast-plate  of  firer 
girded  to  him,  and  he  came  out  in  iron  shoes,  with  a  great 
club  in  his  hand.  Then  these  six  men  made  up  to  him,  and 
beset  him  behind  and  before.  Also,  when  Diffidence,  the 
giantess,  came  up  to  help  him,  old  Honest  cut  her  down  at 
one  blow.  Then  they  fought  for  their  lives,  and  Giant  De- 
spair was  brought  down  to  the  ground,  but  was  very  loath  to 
die.  H^  struggled  hard,  and  had,  as  they  say,  as  many  lives 
as  a  cat;  but  Greatheart^was  his  death;  for  he  left  him  not 
till  he  had  severed  his  head  fronTEls  slioulders.  -^ 

Then  they  fell  to  demolishing  Doubting  Castle;  and  that, 
you  know,  might  with  ease  be  done,  since  Giant  Despair  was 
dead.  They  were  seven  days  in  destroying  of  that ;  and  in  it 
of  pilgrims  they  found  one  Mr.  Despondency,  almost  starved 
to  death,  and  one  Much-afraid,  his  daughter;  these  two  they 
saved  alive.     But  it  would  have  made  you  a-wondered  to  have 


282  A   CAUTION   TO   PILGRIMS. 

seen  the  dead  bodies  that  lay  here  and  there  in  the  castle- 
yard,  and  liow'iull  of  dead  men's  bones  the  dungeon  was. 

When  Mr.  Greatheart  and  his  companions  had  performed 
this  exploit,  they  took  Mr.  Despondency,  and  his  daughter 
Much-afraid,  into  their  protection ;  for  they  were  honest  peo- 
ple, though  they  were  prisoners  in  Doubting  Castle,  to  that 
tyrant,  Giant  Despair.  They,  therefore,  I  say,  took  with  them 
the  head  of  the  giant  (for  his  body  they  had  buried  under  a 
heap  of  stones),  and  down  to  the  road  and  to  their  compan- 
ions they  came,  and  showed  them  what  they  had  done.  Now 
when  Feeble-mind  and  Rerdy-to-halt  saw  that  it  was  the  head 
of  Giant  Despair  indeed,  they  were  very  jocund  and  merry. 
Now  Christiana,  if  need  was,  could  play  upon  the  viol,  and 
her  daughter  Mercy  upon  the  lute;  so,  since  they  were  so 
merry  disposed,  she  played  them  a  lesson,  and  Ready-to-halt 
would  dance.  So  he  took  Despondency's  daughter,  named 
Much-afraid,  by  the  hand,  and  to  dancing  they  went  in  the 
road.  True,  he  could  not  dance  without  one  crutch  in  his 
hand;  but,  I  promise  you,  he  footed  it  well.  Also  the  girl 
was  to  be  commended,  for  she  answered  the  music  hand- 
somely. 

As  for  Mr.  Despondency,  the  music  was  not  much  to  him; 
he  was  for  feeding  rather  than  dancing,  for  that  he  was  al- 
most starved.  So  Christiana  gave  him  some  of  her  bottle  of 
spirits,  for  present  relief,  and  then  prepared  him  something  to 
eat;  and  in  a  little  time  the  old  gentleman  came  to  himself, 
and  began  to  be  jfinely  revived. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  when  all  these  things  were  finished, 
Mr.  Gr e attreirrt^lt b^TE'th e  head  of  Giant  Despair,  and  set  it 
upon  a  pole  by  the  highway  side,  right  over  against  the  pillar 
that  Christian  erected  for  a  caution  to  pilgrims  that  came 
after,  to  take  heed  of  entering  into  his  grounds. 

Then  he  writ  undei*  it,  upon  a  marble  stone,  these  verses 
following': — 


THE   SHEPHERDS.  2S3 

**  This  tlie  head  of  him,  whose  name  only 
In  former  times  did  pilgrims  terrify. 
His  castle's  down  ;  raid  Diffidence,  his  wife, 
Brave  Master  Greatheart  has  bereft  of  life. 
Despondency,  his  daug-liter,  Much-afraid, 
Greatheart  for  them  also  the  man  has  play'd  ; 
Who  hereof  donbts,  if  he'll  but  cast  his  eye  . 
Up  hither,  may  his  scruples  satisfy  . 
This  head  also,  when  doubting  cripples  dance, 
Doth  show  from  fears  they  have  deliverance." 

When  these  men  had  thus  bravely  showed  themselves  against 
Doubting  Castle,  and  had  slain  Giant  Despair,  they  went  for- 
ward, and  went  on  till  they  came  to  t^  Delectable  Mountains, 
where  Christian  and  Hopeful  refreshed  themselves  with  the 
varieties  of  the  place.  They  also  acquainted  themselves  with 
the  Shepherds  there,  who  welcomed  them,  as  they  had  done 
Christian  before,  unto  the  Delectable  Mountains. 

Now  the  Shepherds  seeing  so  great  a  train  follow  Mr.  Great- 
heart,  for  with  him  they  were  well  acquainted,  they  said  unto 
him,  "Good  sir,  you  have  got  a  goodly  company  here.  Pray 
where  did  you  find  all  these  ?  " 

Then  Mr.  Greatheart  replied, — 

"  First,  here  is  Christiana  and  her  train, 

Her  sons  and  her  sons'  wives,  who,  like  the  Wain, 

Keep  by  the  Pole,  and  do  by  compass  steer. 

From  sin  to  grace,  else  they  had  not  been  here  ; 

Next,  here  's  old  Honest  come  on  pilgrimage  ; 

Ready-to-halt,  too,  who,  I  dare  engage. 

True-hearted  is,  and  so  is  Feeble-mind, 

Who  willing  was  not  to  be  left  behind  ; 

Dv?.spondency,  good  man,  is  coming  after, 

And  so  also  is  Much-afraid,  his  daugliter. 

May  we  have  entertainment  here,  or  must 

We  further  go  ?     I/ct's  know  whereon  to  trust." 

Then  said  the  Shepherds,  "  This  is  a  comfortable  company. 
You  are  welcome  to  us,  for  we  have  for  the  feeble  as  for  the 
strong.  Our  Prince  has  an  eye  to  what  is  done  to  the  least  of 
these ;  therefore  infirmity  must  not  be  a  block  to  our  entertain- 


284  THE  SON   OF  GREAT-GEACE. 

mcnt."  (Matt.  xxv.  40.)  So  they  had  them  to  the  palace 
door,  and  then  said  unto  them,  "Come  in,  Mr.  Feeble-mind; 
come  in,  Mr.  Ready-to-halt ;  come  in,  Mr.  Despondency,  and 
Mrs.  Much-afraid,  his  daughter."  "These,  Mr.  Greatheart," 
said  the  Shepherds  to  the  guide,  "  we  call  in  byname,  for  that 
they  are  most  subject  to  draw  back;  but  as  for  you,  and  the 
rest  that  are  strong,  we  leave  you  to  your  wonted  liberty." 
Then  said  Mr.  Greatheart,  "  This  day  I  see  that  grace  doth 
shine  in  your  faces,  and  that  you  are  my  Lord's  shepherds  in- 
deed ;  for  that  you  have  not  pushed  these  diseased  neither 
with  side  nor  shoulder,  but  have  rather  strewed  their  way  into 
the  palace  with  flowers,  as  you  should."     (Ezek.  xxxiv.  21.) 

So  the  feeble  and  weak  went  in,  and  Mr.  Greatheart  and  the 
rest  did  follow.  When  they  were  also  set  down,  the  Shep- 
herds said  to  those  of  the  weaker  sort,  "What  is  it  that  you 
would  have  ?  for,"  said  they,  "all  things  must  be  managed 
here  to  the  supporting  of  the  weak,  as  well  as  the  warning  of 
the  unruly." 

So  they  made  tnem  a  feast  of  things  easy  of  digestion,  and 
that  were  pleasant  to  the  palate,  and  nourishing;  the  which 
when  they  had  received,  they  went  to  their  rest  each  one  re- 
spectively unto'  his  proper  place. 

When  morning  was  come,  because  the  mountains  were  high, 
and  the  day  clear,  and  because  it  was  the  custom  of  the  Shep- 
herds to  show  to  the  pilgrims,  before  their  departure,  some 
rarities;  therefore,  after  they  were  ready,  and  had  refreshed 
themselves,  the  Shepherds  took  them  out  into  the  fields,  and 
showed  them  first  what  they  had  showed  to  Christian  before. 

Then  they  had  them  to  some  new  places.  The  first  was  "to 
Mount  Marvel,  where  they  looked,  and  beheld  a  man  at  a 
distance,  that  tumbled  the  hills  about  with  words.  Then  they 
asked  the  Shepherds  what  that  should  mean.  So  they  told 
them,  that  that  man  was  the  son  of  one  Great-grace,  of  whom 
you  read  in  the  First  Part  of  the  records  of  the  Pilgrim's  P'ro- 
^ress.     And  he  is  set  there  to  teach  pilgrims  how  to  believe 


GODLY-MAN.  285 

doTvn,  or  to  tumble  out  of  their  way,  what  difficulties  they 
shall  meet  with,  by  faith.  (Mark  xi.  23,  24.)  Then  said  Mr. 
Greatheart,  '^I  know  him;  he  is  a  man  above  many." 

Then  they  had  them  to  another  place,  called  Mount  Inno- 
cent; aud  there  they  saw  a  man  clothed  all  in  white,  and  two 
men,  Prejudice  and  Ill-will  continually  casting  dirt  upon  him. 
Now,  behold,  the  dirt,  whatsoever  they  cast  at  him,  would  in 
a  little  time  fall  off  again,  and  his  garments  would  look  as 
clear  as  if  no  dirt  had  been  cast  thereat. 

Then  said  the  pilgrims,  "  What  means  this  ?  "  The  Shepherds 
answered,  ''This  man  is  named  Godly-man,  and  this  garment 
is  to  show  the  innocence  of  his  life.  Now  those  that  throw 
dirt  at  him  are  such  as  hate  his  well-doing;  but,  as  you  see, 
the  dirt  will  uot  stick  upon  his  clothes,  so  it  shall  be  with 
him  that  liveth  truly  innocently  in  the  world.  Whoever  they 
be  that  would  make  such  men  dirty,  they  labour  all  in  vain; 
for  God,  by  that  a  little  time  is  spent,  will  cause  that  their 
innocence  shall  break  forth  as  the  light,  and  their  righteous- 
ness as  the  noon-day. 

Then  they  took  them,  and  had  them  to  Mount  Charity, 
where  they  showed  them  a  man  that  had  a  bundle  of  cloth 
lying  before  him,  out  of  which  he  cut  coats  and  garments  for 
tlie  poor  that  stood  about  him;  yet  his  bundle  or  roll  of  cloth 
was  never  the  less. 

Then  said  they,  "What  should  this  be  ?  "  "  This  is,"  said 
the  Shepherds.  "  to  show  you,  that  he  that  has  a  heart  to  give 
of  his  labour  to  the  poor  shall  never  want  wherewithal.  He 
that  watereth  shall  be  watered  himself.  And  the  cake  that 
the  Avidow  gave  to  the  prophet  did  not  cause  that  she  had 
ever  the  less  in  her  barrel." 

They  had  them  also  to  a  place  where  they  saw  one  Fool, 
and  one  Want-wit,  washing  of  an  Ethiopian,  with  intention 
to  make  him  Avhitc ;  but  the  more  they  v/ashed  him,  the  blacker 
he  was.  They  then  asked  the  Shepherds  what  that  should 
mean.     So  they  told  them,  saying,  "Thus  shall  it  be  with  the 


286         MERCY   DESIRES  THE   LOOKING-GLASS. 

vile  person.  All  means  used  to  get  such  a  one  a  good  name 
shall,  in  conclusion,  tend  but  to  make  him  more  abominable. 
Thus  it  was  with  the  Pharisees,  and  so  shall  it  be  with  all 
hypocrites.'^ 

Then  said  Mercy,  the  wife  of  Matthew,  to  Christiana,  her 
mother,  "Mother,  I  would,  if  it  might  be,  see  the  hole  in  the 
hill,  or  that  commonly  called  the  by-way  to  hell."  So  her 
mother  brake  her  mind  to  the  Shepherds.  Then  they  went  to 
the  door.  It  was  in  the  side  of  the  hill,  and  they  opened  it, 
and  bid  Mercy  hearken  awhile.  So  she  hearkened,  and  heard 
one  saying,  "Cursed  be  my  father,  for  holding  of  my  feet 
back  from  the  way  of  peace  and  life ;  "  and  another  said,  "Oh 
that  I  had  been  torn  in  pieces,  before  I  had,  to  save  my  life, 
lost  my  soul!"  and  another  said,  "If  I  were  to  live  again, 
how  would  I  deny  myself,  rather  than  come  to  this  place ! " 
Then  there  was  as  if  the  very  earth  bad  groaned  and  quaked 
under  the  feet  of  this  young  woman  for  fear.  So  she  looked 
white,  and  came  trembling  away,  saying,  "  Blessed  be  he  and 
she  that  are  delivered  from  this  place." 

Now  when  the  Shepherds  had  shown  them  all  these  things, 
then  they  had  them  back  to  the  palace,  and  entertained  them 
with  what  the  house  would  afford.  But  Mercy,  being  a  young 
and  breeding  woman,  longed  for  something  that  she  saw  there, 
but  was  ashamed  to  ask.  Her  mother-in-law  then  asked  her 
what  she  ailed ;  for  she  looked  as  one  not  well.  Then  said 
Mercy,  "There  is  a  looking-glass  hangs  up  in  the  dining- 
room,  off  which  I  cannot  take  my  mind ;  if,  therefore,  I  have 
it  not,  I  think  I  shall  miscarry."  Then  said  her  mother,  "I 
will  mention  thy  wants  to  the  Shepherds,  and  they  will  not 
deny  it  thee."  But  she  said,  "I  am  ashamed  that  these  men 
should  know  that  I  longed."  "Nay,  my  daughter,"  said  she, 
"it  is  no  shame,  but  a  virtue,  to  long  for  such  a  thing  as 
that."  So  Mercy  said,  "Then,  mother,  if  you  please,  ask  the 
Shepherds  if  they  are  willing  to  sell  it." 

Now  the  glass  was  one  of  a  thousand.     It  would  present  a 


THE   SHEPHERDS   GIVE   IT   HER.  287 

man,  one  way,  with  his  own  features  exactly  (James  i.  23), 
and  turn  it  but  another  way,  and  it  would  show  one  the  very 
face  and  similitade  of  the  Prince  of  Pilgrims  himself.  (1  Cor. 
xiii.  12.)  Yea,  I  have  talked  with  them  that  can  tell,  and 
they  have  said  that  they  have  seen  the  very  crown  of  thorns 
upon  his  head,  by  looking  in  that  glass;  they  have  theiiein 
also  seen  the  holes  in  his  hands,  in  his  feet,  and  in  his  side. 
(2  Cor.  iii.  13.)  Yea,  such  an  excellency  is  there  in  that  glass, 
that  it  will  show  him  to  one  where  they  have  a  mind  to  see 
him;  whether  living  or  dead;  whether  in  earth  or  heaven; 
whether  in  a  state  of  humiliation,  or  in  his  exaltation ; 
whether  coming  to  suffer,  or  coming  to  reign. 

Christiana,  therefore,  went  to  the  Shepherds  apart — now- the 
names  of  the  Shepherds  are  Knowledge,  Experience,  Watch- 
ful, and  Sincere — and  said  unto  them,  ''There  is  one  of  my 
daughters,  a  breeding  woman,  that  I  think  doth  long  for 
eomething that  she  hath  seen  in  this  house;  and  she  thinks 
she  shall  miscarry,  if  she  shall  by  you  be  denied." 

Experience.  Call  her,  call  her;  she  shall  assuredly  have 
what  we  can  help  her  to.  So  they  called  her,  and  said  to  her, 
**  Mercy,  what  is  that  thing  thou  wouldst  have  ?  "  Then  she 
blushed,  and  said,  "The  great  glass  that  hangs  up  in  thedin- 
ing-roo|Q."  So  Sincere  ran  and  fetched  it,  and,  with  a  joyful 
consent,  it  was  given  her.  Then  she  bowed  her  head,  and 
gave  thanks,  and  said,  *'By  this  I  know  that  I  have  obtained 
favour  in  your  eyes." 

They  also  gave  to  the  other  young  women  such  things  as 
they  desired,  and  to  their  husbands  great  commendations,  for 
that  they  had  joined  with  Mr.  Greatheart,  to  the  slaying  of 
Giant  Despair,  and  the  demolishing  of  Doubting  Castle. 

About  Christiana's  neck  the  Shepherds  put  a  bracelet,  and  so 
they  did  about  the  necks  of  her  four  daughters;  also  they  put 
car-rings  in  tlieir  ears,  and  jewels  on  their  foreheads. 

When  they  were  minded  to  go  hence,  they  let  them  go  in 
peace,  but  gave  not  to  them  those  certain  cautions  which  be- 


288  TURN-AWAY. 

fore  were  given  to  Christian  and  his  companion.  The  reason 
was  lor  that  these  had  Greatheart  to  be  their  guide,  who  was 
one  that  was  well  acquainted  with  things,  and  so  could  give 
them  their  cautions  more  seasonably ;  to  wit,  even  then  when 
the  danger  was  nigh  the  approaching. 

What  cautions  Christian  and  his  companion  had  received  of 
the  Shepherds,  they  had  also  lost,  by  that  the  time  was  come 
that  they  had  need  to  put  them  in  practice.  Wherefore,  here 
was  the  advantage  that  this  company  had  over  the  other. 

From  hence  they  went  on  singing,  and  they  said, — 

*'  Behold,  how  fitly  are  the  stages  set 
For  their  relief  that  pilgrims  are  become  ! 
And  how  they  us  receive  without  one  let, 
That  make  the  other  life  our  mark  and  home  ! 


^ 


**  What  novelties  they  have  to  us  they  give. 

That  we,  though  pilgrims,  joyful  lives  may  live  ; 
They  do  upon  us,  too,  such  things  bestow. 
That  show  we  pilgrims  are,  where'er  we  go." 


When  they  were  gone  from  the  Shepherds,  they  quickly 
came  to  the  place  where  Christian  met  with  one  Turn-away, 
that  dwelt  in  the  town  of  Apostasy.  Wherefore,  of  him  Mr. 
Greatheart,  their  guide,  did  now  put  them  in  mind^  saying, 
"  This  is  the  place  where  Christian  met  with  one  Turn-away, 
who  carried  with  him  the  character  of  his  rebellion  at  his 
back.  And  this  I  have  to  say  concerning  this  man:  he  would 
hearken  to  no  counsel,  but,  once  a-falling,  persuasion  could 
not  stop  him. 

''  When  he  came  to  the  place  where  the  Cross  and  the  Sep- 
ulchre were,  he  did  meet  with  one  that  bid  him  look  there; 
but  he  gnashed  with  his  teeth,  and  stamped,  and  said  he  was 
resolved  to  go  back  to  his  own  town.  Before  he  came  to  the 
gate,  he  met  with  Evangelist,  who  offered  to  lay  hands  on 
him,  to  turn  him  into  the  way  again.  But  this  Turn-away  re- 
sisted him,    and  having    done    much  despite    unto    him,  ho 


HEEDLESS    AND     TOO  BOLD. 
(Asleep  in  the  ar2)or.  )--Page  297. 


VALIANT-FOR-TRUTH.  289 

got  away  over  the  wall,  and  so  escaped  his  hand."  (Heb.  x. 
26-29.) 

Then  they  went  on;  and  just  at  the  place  where  Little-faith 
formerly  was  robbed,  there  stood  a  man  with  his  sword  drawn, 
and  his  face  all  bloody.  Then  said  Mr.  Greatheart,  ''What 
art  thou  ?  "  The  man  made  answer,  saying,  "  I  am  one  whose 
name  is  Valiant-for-truth  I  am  a  pilgrim,  and  am  going  to 
the  Celestial  City.  Now  as  I  was  in  my  way,  there  were 
three  men  did  beset  me,  and  propounded  unto  me  these  three 
things:  1.  .Whether  I  would  become  one  of  them.  2.  Or  go 
back  from  whence  I  came.  3.  Or  die  upon  the  place.  To 
the  first,  I  answered,  I  had  been  a  true  man  a  long  season,  and 
therefore  it  could  not  be  expected  that  I  now  should  cast  in 
my  lot  with  thieves.  (Prov.  i.  10-14.)  Then  they  demanded 
what  I  would  say  to  the  second.  So  I  told  them  that  the 
place  from  whence  I  came,  had  I  not  found  incommoflity 
there,  I  had  not  forsaken  it  at  all;  but  finding  it  altogether 
unsuitable  to  me,  and  very  unprofitable  for  me,  I  forsook  it 
for  this  way.  Then  they  asked  me  what  I  said  to  the  third. 
And  I  told  them,  My  life  cost  more  dear  far,  than  that  I 
should  lightly  give  it  away.  Besides,  you  have  nothing  to  do 
thus  to  put  things  to  my  choice;  wherefore  at  your  peril  be  it, 
if  you  meddle.  Then  these  three,  to  wit.  Wild-head,  Incon- 
siderate, and  Pragmatic,  drew  upon  me,  and  I  also  drew  upon 
them. 

"  So  we  fell  to  it,  one  against  three,  for  the  space  of  above 
three  hours.  They  have  left  upon  me,  as  you  see,  some  of  the 
marks  of  their  valour,  and  have  also  carried  away  with  them 
some  of  mine.  They  are  but  just  now  gone.  I  suppose  they 
might,  as  the  saying  is,  hear  your  horse  dash,  and  so  they  be- 
took them  to  flight." 

Greatheart.  But  here  was  great  odds,  three  against  one. 

•     Valiant.  It  is  true ;  but  little  or  more  are  nothing  to  him 

that  has  the  truth  on  his  side.     "  Though  an  host  should  en- 

camp  against  me,"  said  one,  "  my  heart  shall  not  fear;  though 

r.  p.— io. 


290  VALIANT-FOR-TRUTH'S   SWORD. 

war  should  rise  against  me,  in  this  will  I  be  confident."  (Psh. 
xxvii.  3.)  Besides,  saith  he,  I  have  read  in  some  records,  that 
one  man  has  fought  an  army.  And  how  many  did  Samson 
slay  with  the  jaw-bone  of  an  ass!     (Judges  xv.  15,  16.) 

Then  said  the  guide,  "Why  did  you  not  cry  ont,  that  some 
might  have  come  in  for  your  succour  ?  " 

Valiant.  Sol  did,  to  my  King,  who,  I  knew,  coold  hear, 
and  afford  invisible  help,  and  that  was  sufficient  for  me. 

Then  said  Greatheart  to  Mr.  Valiant-for-truth,  "Thou  hast 
worthily  behaved  thyself.  Let  me  see  thy  sword."  So  he 
showed  it  to  him.  When  he  had  taken  it  in  his  hand,  and 
looked  thereon  a  while,  he  said,  "  Hal  It  is  a  right  Jerusalem 
blade."     (Isa.  ii.  3.) 

"Valiant.  It  is  so.  Let  a  man  have  one  of  these  blades, 
with  a  hand  to  yield  it  and  skill  to  use  it,  and  he  may  venture 
upon  an  angel  with  it.  He  need  not  fear  its  holding,  if  he 
can  but  tell  how  to  lay  on.  Its  edges  will  never  blunt.  It 
will  cut  flesh  and  bones,  and  soul  and  spirit,  and  all.  (Eph. 
vi.  12-17;  Heb.  iv.  12.) 

GreatheaPvT.  But  you  fought  a  great  while.  I  wonder  you 
was  not  weary. 

Valiant.  I  fought  till  my  sword  did  cleave  to  my  hand ; 
and  when  they  were  joined  together,  as  if  a  sword  grew  out 
of  my  arm,  and  when  the  blood  ran  through  my  fingers,  then 
I  fought  with  most  courage.     (2  Sam.  xxiii.  10.) 

Greatheakt.  Thou  hast  done  well.  Thou  hast  "resisted 
unto  blood,  striving  against  sin."  Thou  shalt  abide  by  us, 
come  in  and  go  out  with  us,  for  we  are  thy  companions. 

Then  they  took  him,  and  washed  his  wounds,  and  gave  him 
of  what  they  had  to  refresh  him;  and  so  they  went  on  togeth- 
er. Now,  as  they  went  on,  because  Mr.  Greatheart  was  de- 
lighted in  him,  for  he  loved  one  greatly  that  he  found  to  be 
a  man  of  his  hands,  and  because  there  were  with  his  company 
them  that  were  feeble  and  weak,  therefore  he  questioned  with 
him  about  many  things ;  as,  first,  what  countryman  he  was. 


VALIANT-FOR-TRUTH'S   HISTORY.  291 

Valiant.  T  am  of  Dark-land ;  for  there  I  was  born,  and 
there  my  father  and  mother  are  still. 

"  Dark-Umd,"  said  the  guide ;  ''  doth  not  that  lie  upon  the 
same  coast  with  the  City  of  Destruction  ? " 

Valiant.  Yes,  it  doth.  Now  that  which  caused  me  to  come 
on  pilgrimnge  was  this:  we  had  one  Mr.  Tell-true  came  into 
our  parts,  and  he  told  it  about  what  Christian  had  done,  that 
went  from  the  City  of  Destruction ;  namely,  how  he  had  for- 
saken his  wife  and  children,  and  had  betaken  himself  tea  pil- 
grim's life.  It  was  also  confidently  reported  how  he  had  kill- 
ed a  serpent  that  did  come  out  to  resist  him  in  his  journey,  and 
how  he  got  through  to  whither  he  intended.  It  was  also  told 
what  welcome  he  had  at  all  his  Lord's  lodgings,  especially 
when  he  came  to  the  gates  of  the  Celestial  City ;  '*for  there," 
said  the  man,  "he  was  received,  with  sound  of  trumpet,  by  a 
company  of  Shining  Ones."  He  told  it  also,  how  all  the  bells 
in  the  city  did  ring  for  joy  at  his  reception,  and  what  golden 
garments  he  was  clothed  with,  with  many  other  things  that 
now  I  shall  forbear  to  relate.  In  a  word,  that  man  so  told  the 
story  of  Christian  and  his  travels,  that  my  heart  fell  into  a 
burning  haste  to  be  gone  after  him  ;  nor  could  father  or  mother 
stay  me  !  So  I  got  from  them,  and  am  come  thus  far  on  my 
way. 

GiiEATHEART.  You  Came  in  at  the  gate,  did  you  not  ? 

Valiant.  Yes,  yes;  for  the  same  man  also  told  us  that  all 
would  be  nothing,  if  we  did  not  begin  to  enter  this  way  at 
the  gate. 

*'Look  you,"  said  the  guide  to  Christiana,  "  the  pilgrim- 
age of  your  husband,  and  what  he  has  gotten  thereby,  is 
spread  abroad  far  and  near." 

Valiant.  Why,  is  this  Christian's  wife  ? 

Greatheakt.  Yes,  that  it  is ;  and  these  are  also  her  four  • 
sons. 

Valiant.  What!  and  going  on  pilgrimage  too  ? 

Greatheakt.  Yes,  verily ;  they  are  following  after. 


292  GREAT   STUMBLING-BLOCKS. 

Valiant.  It  gladdens  me  at  heart.  Good  man!  liow  joyful 
will  he  be  when  he  shall  see  them  that  would  not  go  with 
him,  yet  to  enter  after  him  in  at  the  gates  into  the  city. 

Gkeatheart.  Without  doubt  it  will  be  a  comfort  to  him; 
for,  next  to  the  joy  of  seeing  himself  there,  it  will  be  a  joy 
to  meet  there  his  wife  and  children. 

Yaliant.  But,  now  you  are  upon  that,  pray  let  me  hear 
your  opinion  about  it.  Some  make  a  question,  whether  we 
shall  know  one  another  when  we  are  there. 

Greatheart.  Do  they  think  they  shall  know  themselves 
then,  or  tliat  they  shall  rejoice  to  see  themselves  in  that  bliss  ? 
And  if  they  think  they  shall  know  and  do  these,  why  not 
know  others,  and  rejoice  in  their  welfare  also  ? 

Again,  since  relations  r.re  our  second  self,  though  that  state 
will  be  dissolved  there,  yet  why  may  it  not  be  rationally  con- 
cluded that  we  shall  be  more  glad  to  see  them  there  than  to 
see  they  are  wanting  ? 

Yaliant.  Weil,  I  perceive  whereabouts  you  are  as  to  this. 
Have  you  any  rnore  things  to  ask  me  about  my  beginning  to 
come  on  pilgrimage  ? 

Greatheart.  Yes.  Was  your  father  and  mother  willing 
that  you  should  become  a  pilgrim  ? 

Yaliant.  Oh  no  I  They  used  all  means  imaginable  to  per- 
suade me  to  stay  at  home. 

Greatheart.  Why,  what  could  they  say  against  it  ? 

Yaliant.  They  said  it  wao  an  idle  life  ;  and  if  I  myself  were 
not  inclined  to  sloth  and  laziness,  I  would  never  countenance 
a  pilgrim's  condition. 

Greatheart.  And  what  did  they  say  else  ? 

Yaliant.  Why,  they  told  me  that  it  was  a  dangerous  way; 
yea,  "the  most  dangerous  way  in  the  world,"  said  they,  "is 
.that  which  the  pilgrims  go." 

Greatheart.  Did  they  show  wherein  this  way  is  so  dan- 
gerous ? 

Yaliant.  Yes;  and  that  in  many  particulars. 


STUMBLIM  G-BLOCKS.  293 

Greatheart.  Name  some  of  tliem. 

Valiant.  They  told  me  of  the  Slough  of  Despond,  where 
Christian  was  well-uigh  smothered.  They  told  me  that  there 
were  archers  standing  ready  in  Beelzebub's  Castle,  to  shoot 
them  that  should  knock  at  the  wicket-gate  for  entrance.  They 
told  me  also  of  the  wood,  and  dark  mountains;  of  the  Hill 
Difficulty;  of  the  lions;  and  also  of  the  three  giants,  Bloody- 
man,  Maul,  and  Slay-good.  They  said,  moreover,  that  there 
was  a  foul  fiend  haunted  the  Valley  of  Humiliation,  and  that 
Christian  was  by  him  almost  bereft  of  life.  "Besides,"  said 
they,  *'  you  must  go  over  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death, 
where  the  hobgoblins  are;  where  the  light  is  darkness;  where 
the  way  is  full  of  snares,  pits,  traps,  and  gins."  They  told 
me  also  of  Giant  Despair,  of  Doubting  Castle,  and  of  the  ruin 
that  the  pilgrims  met  with  there.  Further,  they  said  I  must 
go  over  the  Enchanted  Ground,  which  was  dangerous.  And 
that,  after  all  this,  I  should  find  a  river,  over  which  I  should 
find  no  bridge,  and  that  that  river  did  lie  betwixt  me  and  the 
Celestial  Country. 

Greatkeart.  And  was  this  all  ? 

Valiant.  No.  They  also  told  me  that  this  way  was  full  of 
deceivers,  and  of  persons  that  laid  in  wait  there,  to  turn  good 
men  out  of  the  path. 

Greatheart.  But  how  did  they  make  that  out  ? 

Valiant.  They  told  me  that  Mr.  Worldly  Wiseman  did 
there  lie  in  wait  to  deceive.  They  also  said  that  there  was 
Formality  and  Hypocrisy  continually  on  the  road.  They  said, 
also,  that  By-ends,  Talkative,  or  Demas  would  go  near  to 
gather  me  up;  that  the  Flatterer  would  catch  me  in  his  net; 
or  that  with  green-headed  Ignorance  I  would  presume  to  go 
on  to  the  gate,  from  whence  he  always  was  sent  back  to  the 
hole  that  was  in  the  side  of  the  hill,  and  made  to  go  the  by- 
way to  hell. 

Greatheart.  I  promise  you  this  was  enough  to  discourage ; 
but  did  they  make  an  end  here  ? 


294       VICTORY   OVER   THE   STUMBLING-BLOCKS. 

Valiant  Ko  ;  stay.  They  told  me  also  of  many  that  had 
tried  that  way  of  old,  and  that  had  gone  a  greit  way  therein, 
to  see  if  they  could  find  something  of  the  glory  there  that  so 
many  had  so  much  talked  of  from  time  to  time ;  and  how  they 
came  back  again,  and  befooled  themselves  for  setting  a  foot 
out  of  doors  in  that  path,  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  the  country. 

And  they  named  several  that  did  so ;  as  Obstinate  and  Pli- 
able, Mistrust  and  Timorous,  Turn-away  and  old  Atheist,  with 
several  more,  who,  they  said,  had  some  of  them  gone  far,  to 
see  if  they  could  find ;  .but  not  one  of  them  found  so  much  ad- 
vantage by  going  as  amounted  to  the  weight  of  a  feather. 

Greatheart.  Said  they  anything  more  to  disconrage  you  ? 

Valiant.  Yes.  They  told  me  of  one  Mr.  Fearing,  wlio 
was  a  pilgrim ;  and  how  he  found  his  way  so  solitary  that  he 
never  had  a  comfortable  hour  therein.  Also,  that  Mr.  De- 
spondency had  liked  to  have  been  starved  therein ;  yea,  and 
also,  which  I  had  almost  forgot,  that  Christian  himself,  about 
whom  there  has  been  such  a  noise,  after  all  his  ventures  for  a 
celestial  crown,  was  certainly  drowned  in  the  Black  River, 
and  never  went  foot  further;  however,  it  was  smothered  up. 

Greatheart.  And  did  none  of  these  things  discourage 
you  ? 

Valiant.  No  ;  they  seemed  but  as  so  many  nothings  to  me. 

Greatheart.  How  came  that  about  ? 

Valiant.  Why,  I  still  believed  what  Tell-true  had  said, 
and  that  carried  me  beyond  them  ail. 

Greatheart.  Then  this  was  your  victory,  even  your  faith. 

Valiant.  It  was  so.  I  believed,  and  therefore  came  out, 
got  into  the  way,  fought  all  that  set  themselves  against  me, 
and,  by  believing,  am  come  to  this  place. 

**  Who  would  true  valour  see  ? 

Let  him  come  hither  ; 
One  here  will  constant  be, 

Come  wind,  come  weather. 
There's  no  discouragement 


ENCHANTED  GROUND.  295 

Shall  make  liim  once  relent 
His  first  avow'd  intent 
To  be  a  pilgrim. 

"  Who  so  beset  him  round 

With  dismal  stories. 
Do  but  themselves  confound  — 

His  strength  the  more  is  ; 
No  lion  can  him  fright, 
He'll  with  a  giant  fight ; 
But  he  will  have  a  right 

To  be  a  pilgrim. 

**  Hobgoblin  nor  foul  fiend 

Can  daunt  his  spirit  ; 
He  knows  he  at  the  end 

Shall  life  inherit. 
Then  fancies  fiy  away. 
He'll  fear  not  wliat  men  say  : 
He'll  labour  night  and  day 

To  be  a  pilgrim." 

By  this  time  they  were  got  to  the  Enchanted  Ground,  where 
the  air  naturally  tended  to  make  one  drowsy;  and  that  place 
was  grown  over  with  briers  and  thorns,  excepting  here  and 
there,  where  was  an  enchanted  arbour,  upon  which  if  a  man 
sits,  or  in  which  if  a  man  sleeps,  it  is  a  question,  say  some, 
whether  he  ever  shall  rise  or  wake  again  in  this  world.  Over 
this  forest,  therefore,  they  went,  both  one  with  another,  and 
Mr.  Greatheart  went  before,  for  that  he  was  the  guide;  and 
Mr.  Valiant-for-truth,  he  came  behind,  being  there  a  guard, 
for  fear  lest  peradventure  some  fiend,  or  dragon,  or  giant,  or 
thief,  should  fall  upon  their  rear,  and  so  do  mischief.  They 
went  on  here,  each  man  with  his  sword  drawn  in  his  hand, 
for  they  knew  it  was  a  dangerous  place.  Also  they  cheered 
up  one  another  as  well  as  they  could ;  Feeble-mind,  Mr.  Great- 
heart  commanded,  should  come  up  after  him,  and  Mr.  De- 
spondenoy  was  under  the  eye  of  Mr.  Valiant. 

Now  they  had  not  gone  far,  but  a  great  mist  and  a  darkness 
fell  upon  them  all,  so  that  they  could  scarce,  for  a  great  while, 


296  A   DIFFICULT  WAY. 

see  the  one  the  other;  wherefore  they  were  forced,  for  some 
time,  to  feel  for  one  another  by  words ;  for  they  walked  not 
by  sight. 

But  any  one  must  think  that  here  was  but  sorry  going  for 
the  best  of  them  all ;  but  how  much  worse  for  the  women  and 
children,  who  both  of  feet  and  heart  were  but  tender.  Yet 
so  it  was,  that  through  the  encouraging  words  of  him  that  led 
in  the  front,  and  of  him  that  brought  them  up  behind,  they 
made  a  pretty  good  shift  to  wag  along, 

*  The  way  also  was  here  very  wearisome,  through  dirt  and 
slabbiness.  Nor  was  there  on  all  this  ground  so  much  as  one 
inn,  or  victualling-house,  therein  to  refresh  the  feebler  sort. 
Here,  therefore,  was  grunting,  and  puffing,  and  sighing. 
While  one  tumblcth  over  a  bush,  another  sticks  fast  in  the 
dirt;  and  the  children,  some  of  them,  lost  their  shoes  in  the 
mire.  While  one  cries  out,  I  am  down;  and  another.  Ho! 
where  are  you  ?  and  a  third.  The  bushes  have  got  such  fast 
hold  on  me,  I  think  I  cannot  get  away  from  them. 

Then  they  come  at  an  arbour,  warm,  and  promising  much 
refreshing  to  the  pilgrims;  for  it  was  finely  wrought  above 
head,  beautified  with  greens,  furnished  with  benches  and 
settles.  It  also  had  in  it  a  soft  couch,  whereon  the  weary 
might  lean.  This,  you  must  think,  all  things  considered,  was 
tempting ;  for  the  pilgrims  already  began  to  be  foiled  with  the 
badness  of  the  way;  but  there  was  not  one  of  them  that  made 
so  much  as  a  motion  to  stop  there.  Yea,  for  aught  I  could 
perceive,  they  continually  gave  so  good  heed  to  the  advice  of 
their  guide,  and  he  did  so  faithfully  tell  them  of  dangers,  and 
of  the  nature  of  dangers  when  they  were  at  them,  that  usually, 
when  they  were  nearest  to  them,  they  did  most  pluck  up  their 
spirits,  and  hearten  one  another  to  deny  the  flesh.  This 
arbour  was  called  The  Slothful's  Friend,  on  purpose  to  allure, 
if  it  might  be,  some  of  the  pilgrims  there  to  take  up  their 
rest  when  weary. 

I  saw  then  in  my  dream,  that  they  went  on  in  this  their 


HEEDLESS  AND  TOO-BOLD  ASLEEP.  297 

solitary  ground,  till  they  came  to  a  place  at  which  a  man  is 
apt  to  lose  his  way.  Now,  though  when  it  was  light,  their 
guide  could  well  enough  tell  how  to  miss  those  ways  that 
led  wrong,  yet  in  the  dark  he  was  put  to  a  stand ;  but  he  had 
in  his  pocket  a  map  of  all  ways  leading  to  or  from  the  Celes- 
tial City :  wherefore  he  struck  a  light,  for  he  never  goes,  also, 
without  his  tinder-box,  and  takes  a  view  of  his  book  or  map, 
which  bids  him  be  careful,  in  that  place,  to  turn  to  the  right- 
hand  way.  And  had  he  not  here  been  careful  to  look  in  his 
map,  they  had  all,  in  probability,  been  smothered  in  the  mud ; 
for  just  a  little  before  them,  and  that  at  the  end  of  the 
cleanest  way,  too,  was  a  pit,  none  knows  how  deep,  full  of 
nothing  but  mud,  there  made  on  purpose  to  destroy  the  pil- 
grims in. 

Then  thought  I  with  myself,  who  that  goeth  on  pilgrimage,  > 
but  would  have  one  of  these  maps  about  him,  that  he  may\ 
look,  when  he  is  at  a  stand,  which  is  the  way  he  must  take,      s 

They  went  on,  then,  in  this  Enchanted  Ground,  till  theyr 
came  to  where  there  was  another  arbour,  and  it  was  built  by 
the  highway-side.  And  in  that  arbour  there  lay  two  men, 
whose  names  were  Heedless  and  Too-bold.  These  two  went 
thus  far  on  pilgrimage;  but  here,  being  wearied  with  their 
journey,  they  sat  down  to  rest  themselves,  and  so  fell  fast 
asleep.  When  the  pilgrims  saw  them,  they  stood  still,  and 
shook  their  heads:  for  they  knew  that  the  sleepers  were  in  a 
pitiful  case.  Then  they  consulted  what  to  do,  whether  to  go 
on  and  leave  them  in  their  sleep,  or  to  step  to  them,  and  try 
to  awake  them.  So  they  concluded  to  go  to  them,  and  awake 
them;  that  is,  if  they  could;  but  with  this  caution,  namely, 
to  take  heed  that  themselves  did  not  sit  down  nor  embrace  the 
offered  benefit  of  that  arbour. 

So  they  went  in,  and  spake  to  the  men,  and  called  each  by 
his  name,  for  the  guide,  it  seems,  did  know  them;  but  there 
was  no  voice  nor  answer.  Then  the  guide  did  shake  them, 
and  do  what  he  could  to  disturb  them.      Then  said  one  of 


298  THE   WORD  OF  GOD. 

them,  "I  will  pay  you  when  I  take  my  money.*'  At  which 
the  guide  shook  his  head.  ^'I  will  fight  so  long  as  lean  hold 
my  sword  in  my  hand, "  said  the  other.  At  that  one  of  the 
children  laughed. 

Then  said  Christiana,  ''What  is  the  meaning  of  this?" 
The  guide  said,  ''They  talk  in  their  sleep.  If  you  strike 
them,  beat  them,  or  whatever  else  you  do  to  them,  they  will 
answer  you  after  this  fashion ;  or,  as  one  of  them  said  in  old 
time,  when  the  waves  of  the  sea  did  beat  upon  him,  and  he 
slept  as  one  upon  th6  mast  of  a  ship,  '  When  shall  I  awake  ? 
I  will  seek  it  yet  again.'  (Prov.  xxiii.  34,  35.)  You  know, 
when  men  talk  in  their  sleep,  they  say  anything,  but  their 
words  are  not  governed  either  by  faith  or  reason.  There  is  an 
incoherency  in  their  words  now,  as  there  was  before,  betwixt 
their  going  on  pilgrimage  and  sitting  down  here.  This,  then, 
is  the  mischief  of  it:  when  heedless  ones  go  on  pilgrimage,  it 
is  twenty  to  one  that  they  are  served  thus ;  for  this  Enchanted 
Ground  is  one  of  the  last  refuges  that  the  enemy  to  pilgrims  has. 
Wherefore  it  is,  as  you  see,  placed  almost  at  the  end  of  the 
way,  and  so  it  standeth  against  us  with  the  more  advantage. 
For  when,  thinks  the  enemy,  will  these  fools  be  so  desirous 
to  sit  down,  as  when  they  are  weary  ?  and  when  so  like  to  be 
weary,  as  when  almost  at  their  journey's  end  ?  Therefore  it 
is,  I  say,  that  the  Enchanted  Ground  is  placed  so  nigh  to  the 
Land  Beulah,  and  so  near  the  end  of  their  race.  Wherefore, 
let  pilgrims  look  to  themselves,  lest  it  happen  to  them  as  it 
has  done  to  these,  that,  as  you  see,  are  fallen  asleep,  and  none 
can  wake  them." 

Then  the  pilgrims  desired,  with  trembling,  to  go  forward ; 
only  they  prayed  their  guide  to  strike  a  light,  that  they  might 
go  the  rest  of  they  way  by  the  help  of  the  light  of  a  lantern. 
So  he  struck  a  light,  and  they  went  by  the  help  of  that 
through  the  rest  of  this  way,  though  the  darkness  was  very 
great.     (2  Pet.  i.  19.) 

But  lihe  children  began  to  be  sorely  weary ;  and  they  cried 


STAND-FAST   AND   HONEST.  299 

out  unto  Him  tbat  loveth  pilgrims,  to  make  their  way  more 
comfortable.  So  by  that  they  had  gone  a  little  further,  a  v/iiid 
arose,  that  drove  away  the  fog;  so  the  air  became  more  clear. 

Yet  they  were  not  oil,  by  much,  of  the  Enchanted  Ground, 
only  now  they  could  see  one  another  better,  and  the  way 
wherein  they  should  walk. 

Now,  when  they  were  almost  at  the  end  of  this  ground, 
they  perceived  that,  a  little  before  them,  was  a  solemn  noise 
of  one  that  was  much  concerned,  so  they  went  on  and  looked 
before  them,  and  behold,  they  saw,  as  they  thought,  a  man 
upon  his  knees,  with  hands  and  eyes  lift  up,  and  speaking, 
as  they  thought,  earnestly  to  One  that  was  above.  They  drew 
nigh,  but  could  not  tell  what  he  said.  So  they  went  softly 
till  he  bad  done. 

When  he  had  done,  he  got  up  and  began  to  run  towards  the 
Celestial  City.  Then  Mr.  Greatheart  called  after  him,  saying, 
''Soho!  friend,  let  us  have  your  company,  if  you  go,  as  I  sup- 
pose you  do,  to  the  Celestial  City."  So  the  man  stopped,  and 
they  came  up  to  him.  But  so  soon  as  Mr.  Honest  saw  him, 
he  said,  ''I  know  this  man."  Then  said  Mr.  Yaliant-for- 
truth,  *' Prithee,  who  is  it?"  "It  is  one,"  said  he  "that 
comes  from  whereabouts  I  dwelt.  His  name  is  Stand-fast ; 
he  is  certainly  a  right  good  pilgrim." 

So  they  came  up  one  to  another;  and  presently  Stand-fast 
said  to  old  Honest,  "Ho!  father  Honest,  are  you  there?" 
"Ay,"  said  he,  "that  I  am,  as  sure  as  you  are  there." 
"Right  glad  am  I,"  said  Mr.  Stand-fast,  "that  I  have  found 
you  on  this  road."  "And  as  glad  am  I,"  said  the  other, 
"that  I  espied  you  upon  your  knees."  Then  Mr.  Standfast 
blushed,  and  said,  "  But  wliy,  did  you  see  me  ?"  "Yes,  that 
I  did,"  quoth  the  other,  "and  with  my  heart  was  glad  at  the 
sight."  "Why,  what  did  you  think?"  said  Stand-fast. 
"Think!"  said  old  Honest,  "what  should  I  think  ?  I  thought 
we  had  an  honest  man  upon  the  road,  and  therefore  should 
have  his  company  by  and  by."     "If  you  thought  not  amiss 


300  WHY   STAND-FAST   WAS   AT   PRAYER. 

[said  Stand-fast]  bow  happy  am  I;  but  if  I  be  not  as  I  should, 
I  alone  must  bear  it.-'  '"  That  is  true,"  said  the  other;  *^but 
your  fear  doth  further  confirm  me,  tliat  things  arc  right  be- 
twixt the  Prince  of  pilgrims  and  your  soul;  for  he  saitb, 
*  Blessed  is  the  man  that  feareth  always.'  " 

Valiant.  Well ;  but,  brother,  I  pray  thee  tell  us  what  was 
it  that  was  the  cause  of  thy  being  upon  thy  knees  even  now  ? 
Was  it  for  that  some  special  mercy  laid  obligations  upon  thee, 
or  how  ? 

Strand-fast.  Why,  we  are,  as  you  see,  upon  the  Enchanted 
Ground ;  and  as  I  was  coming  along,  I  was  musing  with  my- 
self of  what  a  dangerous  road  the  road  in  this  place  was,  and 
how  many  that  had  come  even  thus  far  on  pilgrimage  had 
here  been  stopped  and  been  destroyed. .  I  thought  also  of  the 
manner  of  the  death  with  which  this  place  destroyeth  men. 
Those  that  die  here  die  of  no  violent  distemper.  The  death 
which  such  die  is  not  grievous  to  them;  for  he  that  goeth 
away  in  a  sleep  begins  that  journey  with  desire  and  pleasure; 
yea,  such  acquiesce  in  the  will  of  that  disease. 

Then  Mr.  Honest,  interrupting  him,  said,  * '  Did  you  see  the 
two  men  asleep  in  the  arbour  ? " 

Stand-fast.  Ay,  ay,  I  saw  Heedless  and  Too  bold  there; 
and,  for  aught  I  know,  there  they  will  lie  till  they  rot.  (Prov. 
X.  7.)  But  let  me  go  on  in  my  tale.  As  I  was  thus  musing, 
as  I  said,  there  was  one  in  very  pleasant  attire,  but  old,  that 
presented  herself  unto  me,  and  offered  me  three  things ;  to 
wit,  her  body,  her  purse,  and  her  bed.  JS^ow,  the  truth  is,  I 
was  both  a-weary  and  sleepy ;  I  am  also  as  poor  as  an  owlet, 
and  that,  perhaps,  the  witch  knew.  Well,  I  repulsed  her  once 
and  twice,  but  she  put  by  my  repulses,  and  smiled.  Then  I 
began  to  be  angry;  but  she  mattered  that  nothing  at  all. 
Then  she  made  offers  again,  and  said,  if  I  would  be  ruled  by 
her,  she  would  make  me  great  and  happy;  for,  said  she,  ''I 
am  the  mistress  of  the  wofld,  and  men  are  made  happy  by 
me."     Then  I  asked  her  name,  and  she  told  me  it  was  Madam 


THE   WORLD.  801 

Bubble^  This  set  me  further  from  her:  but  she  still  followed 
me  with  enticements.  Then  I  betook  me,  as  you  saw,  to  my 
knees;  and  with  hands  lift  up,  and  cries,  I  prayed  to  Him 
that  had  said  he  would  help.  So,  just  as  you  came  up,  the 
gentlewoman  went  her  way.  Then  I  continued  to  give  thanks 
for  this,  my  great  deliverance;  fori  verily  believe  she  intend- 
ed no  good,  but  rather  thought  to  make  stop  of  me  in  my 
journey. 

Hon.  Without  doubt  her  designs  were  bad.  But  stay,  now 
you  talk  of  her,  methinks  I  either  have  seen  her,  or  have  read 
some  story  of  her. 

Stand-fast.  Perhaps  you  have  done  both. 

Hon.  Madam  Bubble !  is  she  not  a  tall,  comely  dame,  some- 
thing of  a  swarthy  complexion  ? 

Stand-fast.  Right,  you  Iiit  it,  she  is  just  such  a  one. 

Hon.  Doth  she  not  speak  very  smoothly,  and  give  you  a 
smile  at  the  end  of  a  sentence  ? 

Stand-fast.  You  fall  right  upon  it  again,  for  these  are  her 
very  actions. 

Hon.  Dotli  she  not  wear  a  great  purse  by  her  side ;  and  is 
not  her  hand  often  in  it,  fingering  her  money,  as  if  that  was 
her  heart's  delight  ? 

Stand-fast.  It  is  just  so ;  had  she  stood  by  all  this  while, 
you  could  not  more  amply  have  set  her  forth  before  me,  nor 
have  better  described  her  features. 

Hon.  Then  he  that  drew  her  picture  was  a  good  limner,  and 
he  that  wrote  of  her  said  true. 

Greatheart.  This  woman  is  a  witch,  and  it  is  by  virtue 
of  her  sorceries  that  this  ground  is  enchanted.  Whoever  doth 
lay  their  head  down  in  her  lap  had  as  good  lay  it  down  upon 
that  block  over  which  the  axe  doth  hang;  and  whoever  lay 
their  eyes  upon  her  beauty  arc  counted  the  enemies  of  God. 
(James  iv.  4;  1  John  ii.  15.)  This  is  she  that  maintaineth  in 
lier  splendour  all  those  that  are  the  enemies  of  pilgrims.  Yea, 
this  is  she  that  hath  bought  off  many  a  man  from  a  pilgrim's 


\/ 


303  MADAM   BUBBLE. 

life.  She  is  a  great  gossiper;  she  is  always,  both  she  and  her 
daughters,  at  one  pilgrim's  heels  or  another,  now  commending 
and  then  preferring  the  excellencies  of  this  life.  She  is  a  bold 
and  impudent  slut ;  she  will  talk  with  any  man.  She  always 
laugheth  poor  pilgrims  to  scorn,  but  highly  commends  the 
rich.  If  there  be  one  cunning  to  get  money  in  a  place,  she 
will  speak  well  of  him  from  house  to  house.  She  loveth  ban- 
queting and  feasting  mainly  well;  she  is  always  at  one  full 
table  or  another.  She  has  given  it  out  in  some  places  that  she 
is  a  goddess,  and  therefore  some  do  worship  her.  She  hasher 
times  and  open  places  of  cheating;  and  she  will  say  and  avow 
it,  that  none  can  show  a  good  comparable  to  hers.  She  prom* 
iseth  to  dwell  with  children's  children,  if  they  will  but  love 
and  make  much  of  her.  She  will  cast  out  of  her  purse  gold 
like  dust,  in  some  places,  and  to  some  persons.  She  loves  to 
be  sought  after,  spoken  well  of,  and  to  lie  in  the  bosoms  of 
men.  She  is  never  weary  of  comaiendiiig  her  commodities, 
and  she  loves  them  most  that  think  best  of  her.  She  trill 
promise  to  some  crowns  and  kingdoms,  if  they  will  but  take 
her  advice ;  yet  many  hath  she  brought  to  the  halter,  and  ten 
thousand  times  more  to  hell. 

'^  Oil,"  said  Stand-fast,  "what  a  mercy  it  is  that  I  did  re- 
sist !  for  whither  might  she  have  drawn  me ! " 

Greatheart.  Whither  ?  nay,  none  but  God  knov»^s  whither. 
But  in  general,  to  be  sure,  she  would  have  drawn  thee  into 
"many  foolish  and  hurtfnl  lusts,  which  drown  men  in  de- 
struction and  perdition."     (1  Tim.  vi.  9.) 

It  was  she  that  set  Absalom  against  his  father,  and  Jero- 
boam against  his  master.  It  was  she  that  persuaded  Judas  to 
sell  his  Lord,  and  that  prevailed  with  Demas  to  forsake  the 
godly  pilgrims'  life:  none  can  tell  of  the  mischief  that  she 
doth.  She  makes  variance  betwixt  rulers  and  subjects,  be- 
twixt parents  and  children,  betwixt  neighbour  and  neigh- 
bour, betwixt  a  man  and  his  wife,  betwixt  a  man  and  himself, 
betwixt  the  flesh   and  the   heart.      Wherefore,   good  Master 


THE   LAND   OF   BEULAH.  303 

Stand-fast,  be  as  your  name  is,  and  *^  When  you  have  done 
all.  Stand." 

At  this  discourse  there  was  among  the  pilgrims  a  mixture 
of  joy  and  trembling;  but  at  length,   they  brake  out,    and 


**  What  danger  is  the  pilgrim  in  ! 
How  many  are  his  foes  ! 
How  many  ways  there  are  to  sin 
No  living  mortal  knows. 

**  Some  of  the  ditch  shy  are,  yet  can 
Lie  tumbling  in  the  mire  ; 
Some,  though  they  shun  the  frying-pan, 
Do  leap  into  the  fire." 

After  this,  I  beheld  until  they  were  come  unto  the  Land  of 
Beulah,  where  the  sunshineth  night  and  day.  Here,J)ecause 
they  were  weary,  they  betook  themselves  a  while  to  rest;  and 
because  this  country  was  common  for  pilgrims,  and  because 
the  orchards  and  vineyards  that  were  here  belonged  to  the 
King  of  the  Celestial  Country,  therefore  they  were  licensed  to 
moke  bold  with  any  of  his  things. 

But  a  little  while  soon  refreshed  them  here;  for  the  bells  did 
so  ring,  and  the  trumpets  continually  sound  so  melodiously, 
that  they  could  not  sleep;  and  yet  they  received  as  much  re- 
freshing as  if  they  had  slept  their  sleep  ever  so  soundly.  Here 
also  all  the  noise  of  them  that  walked  in  the  streets  was, 
''More  pilgrims  are  come  to  town."  And  another  would  an- 
swer, saying,  *' And  so  many  went  over  the  water,  and  were 
let  in  at  the  golden  gates  to-day."  They  would  cry  again, 
*'  There  is  now  a  legion  of  Shining  Ones  just  come  to  town,  by 
which  'vve  know  that  there  are  more  pilgrims  upon  the  road ; 
for  here  .hey  come  to  wait  for  them,  and  to  comfort  them  af- 
ter all  their  sorrow."  Then  the  pilgrims  got  up,  and  walked 
to  and  fro;  but  how  were  their  ears  filled  vnth  heavenly 
noises,  and  their  eyes  delighted  with  celestial  visions  I   In  this 


304  PREPARATION   FOR   DEATH. 

land  they  heard  nothing,  saw  nothing,  felt  nothing,  smelled 
nothing,  tasted  nothing,  that  was  offensive  to  their  stomach 
or  mind;  only  when  they  tasted  of  the  water  of  the  river 
over  which  they  were  to  to  go,  they  thought  that  tasted  a  lit- 
tle bitterish  to  the  palate,  but  it  proved  sweeter  when  it  was 
down. 

In  this  place  there  was  a  record  kept  of  the  names  of  them 
that  had  been  pilgrims  of  old,  and  a  history  of  all  the  famous 
acts  that  they  had  done.  It  was  here  also  much  discoursed, 
how  the  river  to  some  had  had  its  Rowings,  and  what  ebbings 
it  has  had  while  others  have  gone  over.  It  has  been  in  a  man- 
ner dry  for  some,  while  it  has  overflowed  its  banks  for 
others. 

In  this  place  the  children  of  the  town  would  ^o  into  the 
King's  gardens,  and  gather  nosegays  for  the  pilgrims,  and 
bring  them  to  them  with  much  affection.  Here  also  grew 
camphire,  with  spikenard  and  saffron,  calamus  and  cinnamon, 
with  all  its  trees  of  frankincense,  myrrh,  and  aloes,  with  all 
chief  spices.  With  these  the  pilgrims'  chambers  were  per- 
fumed while  they  stayed  here;  and  with  these  were  their 
bodies  annointed,  to  prepare  them  to  go  over  the  river  when 
the  time  appointed  was  come. 

Now  while  they  lay  here,  and  waited  for  the  good  hour, 
there  was  a  noige  in  the  town  that  there  was  a  post  come  from 
the  Celestial  City,  with  matter  of  great  importance  to  one 
Christiana,  the  wife  of  Christian  the  Pilgrim.  So  inquiry  was 
made  for  her,  and  the  house  was  found  out  where  she  was; 
so  the  post  presented  her  with  a  letter,  the  contents  whereof 
were,  "  Hail,  good  woman!  I  bring  the  tidings  that  the  Mas- 
ter calleth  for  thee,  and  expect eth  that  thou  should st  stand  in 
his  presence,  in  clothes  of  immortality,  within  these  ten 
days." 

When  he  had  read  this  letter  to  her,  he  gave  her  therewith 
a  sure  token  that  he  was  a  true  messenger,  and  was  come  to 
bid  her  make  haste  to  be  gone.     The  token  was  an  arrow  with 


PARTING   PRESENTS.  305 

a  point  sharpened  with  love,  let  easily  into  her  heart,  which 
by  degrees  wrought  so  effectually  with  her,  that  at  the  time 
appointed  she  must  be  gone. 

When  Christiana  saw  that  her  time  was  come,  and  that  she 
was  the  first  of  this  company  that  wiis  to  go  over,  she  called 
for  Mr.  Greatheart,  her  guide,  and  told  him  how  matters 
were.  So  he  told  her  he  was  heartily  glad  of  the  news,  and 
could  have  been  glad  had  the  post  come  for  him.  Then  she 
bid  that  he  should  give  advice  how  all  things  should  be  pre- 
pared for  her  journey.  So  he  told  her,  saying,  "Thus  and 
thus  must  it  be;  and  we  that  survive  will  accompany  you  to 
the  river  side." 

Then  she  called  for  her  children,  and  gave  them  her  bless- 
ing, and  told  them  that  she  yet  read  with  comfort  the 
mark  that  was  set  in  their  foreheads,  and  was  glad  to  see  them 
with  her  there,  and  that  they  had  kept  their  garments  so 
white.  Lastly,  she  bequeathed  to  the  poor  that  little  she  had, 
and  commanded  her  sons  and  her  daughters  to  be  ready 
against  the  messenger  should  come  for  them. 

When  she  had  spoken  these  words  to  her  guide  and  to  her 
children,  she  called  for  Mr.  Valiant-for-truth,  and  said  unto 
him,  "'  Sir,  you  have  in  all  places  shawed  yourself  true-heart- 
ed; 'be  faithful  unto  death,'  and  my  King  will  give  you  'a 
crown  of  life.'  I  would  also  entreat  you  to  have  an  eye  to 
my  children;  and  if  at  anytime  you  see  them  faint,  speak 
comfortably  to  them.  For  my  daughters,  my  sons'  wives, 
they  have  been  faithful,  and  a  fulfilling  of  the  promise  upon 
them  will  be  their  end."     But  she  gave  Mr.  Stand-fast  a  ring. 

Then  she  called  for  old  Mr.  Honest,  and  said  of  him,  ' '  Be- 
hold an  Israelite  indeed,  in  whom  is  no  guile."  Then  said 
he,  *'  I  wish  youa  fair  day  when  you  set  out  for  Mount  Zion, 
and  shall  be  glad  to  see  that  you  go  over  the  river  dry-shod." 
But  she  answered,  *'Come  wet,  come  dry,  I  long  to  be  gone; 
for,  however  the  weather  is  in  my  journey,  I  shall  have  time 
enough  when  I  come  there  to  sit  down  and  rest  me  and 
dry  me." 


806  CHRISTIANA'S   LAST   WORDS. 

Then  came  in  that  good  man,  Mr.  Ready-to-halt,  to  see  her. 
So  she  said  to  him,  "  Thy  travel  hither  has  been  with  diffi- 
culty ;  but  that  will  make  thy  rest  the  sweeter.  But  watch 
and  be  ready ;  for  at  an  hour  when  you  think  not,  the  mes- 
senger may  come." 

After  him  came  in  Mr.  Despondency,  and  his  daughter 
Much-afraid,  to  whom  she  said,  "You  ought  with  thankful- 
ness for  ever  to  remember  your  deliverance  from  the  hands  of 
Giant  Despair,  and  out  of  Doubting  Castle.  The  effect  of 
that  mercy  is,  that  you  are  brought  with  safety  hither.  Be  ye 
watchful,  and  cast  away  fear ;  '  be  sober,  and  hope  to  the 
end.'" 

Then  she  said  to  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  "Thou  wast  delivered 
from  the  mouth  of  Giant  Slay-good,  that  thou  mightest  live  in 
the  light  of  the  living  forever,  and  see  thy  King  with  com- 
fort ;  only  I  advise  thee  to  repent  thee  of  thine  aptness  to  fear 
and  doubt  of  his  goodness,  before  he  sends  for  thee ;  lest  thou 
shouldest,  when  he  comes,  be  forced  to  stand  before  him,  for 
that  fault,  with  blushing." 

Now  the  day  drew  on  that  Christiana  must  be  gone.  So 
the  road  was  full  of  people  to  see  her  take  her  journey.  But 
behold,  all  the  banks  bayond  the  river  were  full  of  horses 
and  chariots,  which  were  come  down  from  above  to  accom- 
pany her  to  the  city  gate.  So  she  came  forth,  and  entered 
the  river,  with  a  beckon  of  farewell  to  those  that  followed  her 
to  the  river  side.  The  last  words  that  she  was  heard  to  say 
here  were,  "I  come,  Lord,  to  be  with  thee,  and  bless  thee." 

So  her  children  and  friends  returned  to  their  place,  for  that 
those  that  waited  for  Christiana  had  carried  her  out  of  their 
sight.     So  she  went  and  called,  and  entered  in  at  the  gate  with  , 
all   the  ceremonies  of  joy  that  her  husband,   Christian,  had 
done  before  her. 

At  her  departure,  her  children  wept;  but  Mr.  Greatheart 
and  Mr.  Valiant  played  upon  the  well-tuned  cymbal  and  harp 
for  joy.     So  all  departed  to  their  respective  places. 


KEADY-TO-HALT   SUMMONED.  307 

In  process  of  time,  there  came  a  post  to  the  town  again,  and 
his  business  was  with  Mr.  Ready- to-h alt.  So  he  inquired  him 
out,  and  said  to  him,  ' '  I  am  come  to  thee  in  the  name  of  Him 
whom  thou  hast  loved  and  followed,  though  upon  crutches ; 
and  my  message  is  to  tell  thee  that  he  expects  thee  at  Instable 
to  sup  with  him,  in  his  kingdom,  the  next  day  after  Easter; 
wherefore,  prepare  thyself  for  this  journey." 

Then  he  also  gave  him  a  token  that  he  was  a  true  messenger, 
saying,  "I  have  broken  thy  golden  bowl,  and  loosed  thy 
silver  cord."     (Eccles.  xii.  6.) 

After  this,  Mr.  Ready-to-halt  called  for  his  fellow-pilgrims, 
and  told  them,  saying,  '*Iam  sent  for,  and  God  shall  surely 
visit  you  also."  So  he  desired  Mr.  Valiant  to  make  his  will; 
and  because  he  had  nothing  to  bequeath  to  them  that  should 
survive  liim  but  his  cratches  and  his  good  wishes,  therefore 
thus  he  said :  "These  crutches  I  bequeath  to  my  son  that  shall 
tread  in  my  steps,  with  a  hundred  warm  wishes  that  he  may 
prove  better  than  I  have  done." 

Then  he  thanked  Mr.  Greatheart  for  his  conduct  and  kind- 
ness, and  so  addressed  himself  to  his  journey.  When  he  came 
at  the  brink  of  the  river,  he  said,  "Now  I  shall  have  no  more 
need  of  these  crutches,  since  yonder  are  chariots  and  horses 
for  me  to  ride  on."  The  last  words  he  was  heard  to  say  were, 
"  Welcome  life !  "     So  he  went  his  way. 

After  this,  Mr.  Feeble-mind  had  tidings  brought  him,  that 
the  post  sounded  his  horn  at  his  chamber  door.  Then  he 
came  in,  and  told  him,  saying,  "  I  am  come  to  tell  thee  that 
thy  Master  hath  need  of  thee;  and  that,  in  a  very  little  time, 
thou  must  behold  his  face  in  brightness.  And  take  this  as  a 
^oken  of  the  truth  of  my  message;  'Those  that  look  out  of 
the  windows  shall  be  darkened.'  "  (Eccles.  xii.  3.) 

Then  Mr.  Feeble-mind  called  for  his  friends,  and  told  them 
what  errand  had  been  brought  unto  him,  and  what  token  he 
had  received  of  the  truth  of  the  message.  Then  he  said, 
"  Since  I  have  nothing  to  bequeath  to  any,  to  what  purpose 


308  MR.    DESPONDENCY   SENT   FOR. 

should  I  make  a  will  ?  As  for  mv  feeble  mind,  that  I  will 
leave  behind  me,  for  that  I  have  no  need  of  that  in  the  place 
whither  I  go ;  nor  is  it  worth  bestowing  upon  the  poorest 
pilgrim ;  wherefore,  when  I  am  gone,  I  desire  that  you,  Mr. 
Valiant,  would  bury  it  in  a  dunghill."  This  done,  and  the 
day  being  come  in  which  he  was  to  depart,  he  entered  the 
river  as  the  rest.  His  last  words  were,  *'  Hold  out,  faith  and 
patience."     So  he  went  over  to  the  other  side. 

When  days  had  many  of  them  passed  away,  Mr.  Despon- 
dency was  sent  for;  for  a  post  was  come,  arud  brought  this 
message  to  him:  '*  Trembling  man,  these  are  to  summon  thee 
to  be  ready  with  thy  King  by  the  next  Lord's-da}^,  to  sliout 
for  joy  for  thy  deliverance  from  all  thy  doubtings."  *'  And," 
said  the  messenger,  **  that  my  message  is  true,  take  this  for  a 
proof:  "  so  lie  gave  him  the  grasshopper  to  be  a  burden  unto 
him.  (Eccles.  xii.  5.)  Now  Mr.  Despondency's  daughter, 
whose  name  was  Mu<'*h-afraid,  said,  when  she  heard  what  was 
done,  that  she  would  go  with  her  father.  Then  Mr.  Despon- 
dency said  to  his  friends,  *' Myself  and  my  daughter,  you 
know  what  we  have  been,  and  how  troublesomely  we  have  be- 
haved ourselves  in  every  company.  My  will  and  my  daugh- 
ter's is  that  our  desponds  and  slavish  fears  be  by  no  man  ever 
received,  from  the  day  of  our  departure,  for  ever;  for  I  know 
that  after  my  death  they  will  offer  themselves  to  others.  For, 
to  be  plain  with  ^ou,  they  are  ghosts  the  which  we  entertained 
when  Ave  first  began  to  be  pilgrims,  and  could  never  shake 
them  off  after;  and  they  will  walkabout  and  seek  entertain- 
ment of  the  pilgrims;  but,  for  our  sakes,  shut  ye  the  doors 
upon  them." 

When  the  time  was  come  for  them  to  depart,  they  went  to 
the  brink  of  the  river.  The  last  words  of  Mr.  Despondency 
were,  "Farewell  night,  welcome  day."  His  daughter  went 
through  the  river  singing,  but  none  could  understand  what 
she  said. 

Then  it  came  to  pass,  a  while  after,  that  there  was  a  post  in 


MR.    HONEST  CROSSES  THE   RIVER.  309 

the  town  that  inquired  for  Mr.  Honest.  So  he  came  to  his 
house  where  he  was,  and  dehvered  to  his  hand  these  lines:' 
' '  Thou  art  commanded  to  be  ready  against  this  day  seven- 
night,  to  present  thyself  before  thy  Lord,  at  his  Father's 
house.  And  for  a  token  that  my  message  is  true,  *  All  thy 
daughters  of  music  shall  be  brought  low.'"  (Eccles.  xii.  4.) 
Then  Mr.  Honest  called  for  his  friends,  and  said  unto  them, 
''I  die,  but  shall  make  no  will.  As  for  my  honesty,  it  shall 
go  with  me ;  let  him  that  comes  after  be  told  of  this."  When 
the  day  .that  he  was  to  be  gone  was  come,  he  addressed  him- 
self to  go  over  the  river.  Now  the  river  at  that  time  over- 
flowed the  banks  in  some  places ;  l^ut  Mr.  Honest  in  his  life- 
time had  spoken  to  one  Good-conscience  to  meet  him  there, 
the  which  he  also  did,  and  lent  him  his  hand,  and  so  helped 
him  over.  The  last  words  of  Mr.  Honest  were,  "Grace 
reigns."     So  he  left  the  world. 

After  this  it  was  noised  abroad,  that  Mr.  Valiant-for  truth 
was  taken  with  a  summons  by  the  same  post  as  the  other;  and 
had  this  for  a  token  that  the  summons  was  true,  "That  his 
pitcher  was  broken  at  the  fountain."  (Eccles.  xii.  6.)  When 
he  understood  it,  he  called  for  his  friends,  and  told  them  of 
it.  Then  said  he,  "I  am  going  to  my  Father's;  and  though 
with  great  difficulty  I  am  got  hither,  yet  now  I  do  not  repent 
me  of  all  the  trouble  I  have  been  at  to  arrive  where  I  am. 
My  sword  I  give  to  him  that  shall  succeed  me  in  my  pilgrim- 
age, and  my  courage  and  skill  to  him  that  can  get  it.  My 
marks  and  scars  I  carry  with  me,  to  be  a  witness  for  me,  that 
I  have  fought  His  battles  who  now  will  be  my  rewarder." 
When  the  day  that  he  must  go  hence  was  come,  many  ac- 
companied him  to  the  river  side,  into  wjiich  as  he  went,  he 
said,  "  Death,  where  is  thy  sting  ?  "  And  as  he  went  down 
deeper,  he  said,  "Grave,  where  is  thy  victory?"  So  he 
passed  over,  and  all  the  trumpets  sounded  for  him  on  the 
otf  ler  side. 

Then  there  came  forth  a  summons  for  Mr.  Stand-fast — this 


310      MR.    STAND-FAST   SETS   THINGS   IN   ORDER. 

Mr.  Stand-fast  was  he  that  the  rest  of  the  pilgrims  found  upon 
his  knees  in  the  Enchanted  Ground — for  the  post  brought  it  him 
open  in  his  hands.  The  contents  whereof  were  that  he  must 
prepare  for  a  cliange  of  life,  for  his  Master  was  not  willing 
that  he  should  be  so  far  from  him  any  longer.  At  this  Mr. 
Stand-fast  was  put  into  a  muse.  "  Nay,"  said  the  messenger, 
*'you  need  not  doubt  of  the  truth  of  my  message,  for  here  is 
a  token  of  the  truth  thereof:  '  Thy  wheel  is  broken  at  the  cis- 
tern.'" (Eccles.  xii.  6.)  Then  he  called  unto  Mr.  Great" 
heart,  who  was  their  guide,  and  said  unto  him,  *'  Sir,  although 
it  was  not  my  hap  to  be  much  in  your  good  company  in  the 
days  of  my  pilgrimage,  yet,  since  the  time  I  knew  you,  you 
have  been  profitable  to  me.  When  I  came  from  home,  I  left 
behind  me  a  wife  and  five  small  children ;  let  me  entreat  you, 
at  your  return  (for  I  know  that  you  will  go  and  return  to  your 
Master's  house,  in  hopes  that  you  may  yet  be  a  conductor  to 
more  of  the  holy  pilgrims),  that  you  send  to  my  family,  and 
let  them  be  acquainted  with  all  that  hath  and  shall  happen 
unto  me.  Tell  them,  moreover,  of  my  happy  arrival  to  this 
place,  and  of  the  present  [and]  late  blessed  condition  that  I 
am  in.  Tell  them  also  of  Christian,  and  Christiana  his  wife, 
and  how  she  and  her  children  came  after  her  husband.  Tell 
them  also  of  what  a  happy  end  she  made,  and  whither  she  has 
gone.  I  have  little  or  nothing  to  send  to  my  family,  except  it 
be  prayers  and  tears  for  them ;  of  which  it  will  suffice  if  thou 
acquaint  them,  if  perad venture  they  may  prevail." 

When  Mr.  Stand -fast  had  thus  set  things  in  order,  and  the 
time  being  come  for  him  to  haste  him  away,  he  also  went 
down  to  the  river.  Now  there  was  a  great  calm  at  that  time 
in  the  river;  wherefore  Mr.  Stand-fast,  when  he  was  about 
half  way  in,  stood  awhile,  and  talked  to  his  companions  that 
had  waited  upon  him  thither;  and  he  said,  "This  river  has 
been  a  terror  to  many ;  yea,  the  thoughts  of  it  also  have  often 
frightened  me.  Now,  methinks,  I  stand  easy;  my  foot. is 
fixed  upon  that  upon  which  the  feet  of  the  priests  that  bare 


DEATH   OF  MR.    STAND-FAST.  311 

the  ark  of  the  convent  stood,  while  Israel  went  over  this  Jor- 
dan. (Joshua  iii.  17.)  The  waters,  indeed,  are  to  the  palate 
bitter,  and  to  the  stomach  cold ;  yet  the  thoughts  of  what  I 
am  going  to,  and  of  the  conduct  that  waits  for  me  on  the 
other  side,  doth  lie  as  a  glowing  coal  at  my  heart. 

*'I  see  myself  now  at  the  end  of  my  journey;  my  toilsome 
days  are  ended.  I  am  going  now  to  see  that  head  that  was 
crowned  with  thorns,  and  that  face  that  was  spit  upon  for 
me. 

*'  I  have  formerly  lived  by  hearsay  and  faith ;  but  now  I  go 
where  I  shall  live  by  sight,  and  shall  be  with  Him  in  whose 
company  I  delight  myself. 

"  I  have  loved  to  hear  my  Lord  spoken  of;  and  wherever  I 
have  seen  the  print  of  his  shoe  in  the  earth,  there  I  have 
coveted  to  set  my  foot  too. 

''His  name  has  been  to  me  as  a  civet-box;*  yea,  sweeter 
than  all  perfumes.  His  voice  to  me  has  been  most  sweet ; 
and  his  countenance  I  have  more  desired  than  they  that  have 
most  desired  the  light  of  the  sun.  His  word  I  did  use  to 
gather  for  my  food,  and  for  antidotes  against  myfaintings. 
He  has  held  me;  and  I  have  kept  me  from  mine  iniquities; 
yea,  my  steps  hath  he  strengthened  in  his  way.'* 

Now,  while  he  was  thus  in  discourse,  his  countenance 
changed,  his  strong  man  bowed  under  him;  and  after  he  had 
said,  "  Take  me,  for  I  come  unto  thee,"  he  ceased  to  be  seen 
of  them. 

But  glorious  it  was  to  see  how  the  open  region  was  filled 
with  horses  and  chariots,  with  trumpeters  and  pipers,  with 
singers  and  players  on  stringed  instruments,  to  welcome  the 
pilgrims  as  they  went  up,  and  followed  one  another  in  at  th6 
Beautiful  Gate  of  the  City. 

As  for  Christian's  children,  'the  four  boys  that  Christiana 
brought  with  her,  with  their  wives  and  children,  I  did  not^ 
stay  where  I  was  till  they  had  gone  over.     Also,  since  I  cam^ 
*  Alluding  to  the  perfume  from  the  civet  cat. 


312  ADIEU. 

away,  I  heard  one  say  that  they  were  yet  alive,  and  so  would 
be  for  the  increaae  of  the  church  in  that  place  where  they 
were,  for  a  time. 

Shall  it  be  my  lot  to  go  that  way  again,  I  may  give  those 
that  desire  it  an  account  of  what  I  here  am  silent  about. 
Meantime,  I  bid  my  reader 

Adieu. 


FAEEWELL.— tage  312 


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